Ascension: Godslayer and the Chronicles
by QuiteVivid
Summary: Set in Runeterra before the Runic Wars, this story weaves ancient lore with new discoveries. Behind the veils of blood, grudge and treachery, the chronicles of an era that has risen and fallen. There are...so many stories, so many different tales, all woven and frozen in ice. - Might not be 100% compatible with Riot lore. - Reviews much appreciated! Please support this new story! -
1. Prologue

P.S: Just started last week. please give feedback, comment and ideas if you find this mildly interesting! Will determine pace of update according to response received.

Btw, what is counted as an "acceptable" rate of update here in ?

It is boring here.

Arid to the point it drowns you with dryness, quiet to an extent the tranquility bangs and crushes on your eardrums, dark, so overwhelming that it blinds your senses.

Forgive my use of third-rate oxymora, the time's so plentiful here that if you don't waste some, you end up getting wasted.

I have no eyes but I see the world before me; a world without realms, darkness thick and tangible, deeper than fine ink. It is so deep that the moment I got tossed in, I began sinking, descending for eternities but never reaching the bottom.

So much time passed, and I could count every single moment. No clock to remind me, yet my cold, plasmic blood trickles so helplessly that I couldn't mesmerise myself.

Woe is this void...

Only fools and idiots would sputter words bigoted as "time flies". Time never flies, nor does it ever alter its pace at your plead. A second _is_ a second, a pathetically large collection of seconds an eternity. Arcane magic could alter one's perception of time, true; trapped here, I don't have the privilege to access even one tiny speck of magic.

It is boring here.

Every passing moment, my blood gets colder. It will reach absolute zero sooner or later, and then me, once the greatest mage in all of Runeterra, fades to nothingness. No flame, no ash, no dust. My form becomes more raveled and knotted each and every second; desperation seeps into my veins, tainting them.

No. The lack of information will drive me insane before I could fade out and end this imprisonment in the most pathetic and dishonourable way. There is something I should do. One day, as I began pondering about my past-not that I have a future anyway-I found light.

No, no the bright kind of light; I tried summoning that once, but apparently I don't have sufficient authority to do so. It is a dim, golden glaze, inscribed on the outer rim of the endless space, an infinite distance from me, so far and so small. But if I think more, and orate more, the light will multiply, creep towards me in vain.

Oh, the Book Keeper may be dead, but something of his is bound to me still. There is nothing to do except this, and rueful I am when facing the past, I must continue. No one will probably be able to read the story, but I don't mind. This is a consolation, a last resort, and I don't desire to redeem myself-or anyone else.

Though, I hope I will not betray them to the believers of this age. People do still believe in things, right? Incorrect the thoughts might be...

Let us start here, the story of the Godslayer, how it started, carried on, twisted, turned, and ended. How men and realms were torn to shreds. I promise you, my dear nonexistent audience, this will be a long story, and interesting enough to lift me out of the silent pit.

As a side note, I am not the Godslayer.


	2. I - Frostborn

"_Feast on the sun, it turns not back."_

_-Canticle of Light, Northern Freljord; source dates back to pre-Runic Wars._

* * *

><p>I crouched between shallow bushes, squeezing my shoulders so I wouldn't be spotted. The multitude of furs gave good camouflage, but to ensure the success of the hunt, I must be cautious. Several hunters concealed themselves not far from me in similar fashions, either crouching or crawling; some were male, some were female; all were young and adept at combat.<p>

The evening light was dim, and contained no warmth at all. My pale shadow dragged long behind me, seething into the moist, frost-sodden soil. I listened to the distance; a rumbling sound approached from the north, intensifying; but it was a erratic cacophony, the deers' pace sporadic.

A good day to hunt.

They approached without recognising any of us. They had just crossed a stream, icy cold with chilling shards of ice that could slice open your skin; they were clearly exhausted.

Soon I could hear their heated breathes, and feel the energy within dissipating into thin air. The few of us exchanged a look-and leapt forward.

The deers reeled-only after we had hacked the legs off the leading one. As fresh blood spluttered from the deer's mutilated limbs, the rest of them halted, staring at us with hot, bloodshot eyes. Vapour spewed from nostrils, condensing mid-air to form a white smog. Gigantic antlers, stiff, stout and bone-white, were poised at us like pistols pointed towards a rival gang.

Inevitably, the fight begun. As usual, a lot of blood was shed: their blood, our blood; all the same steaming crimson, and once mixed together, could no longer be separated. The ground was our canvas, where everything lied; antlers, fur, limbs, lives-ultimately a artpiece more inspiring than postmodern paintings.

I was the fastest-everyone knew, and acknowledged that. Therefore, I bore the locus of their wrath. I pulled out my knife, sharp with a silver slick, and the battle ensued. I opened my eyes to the fullest, and shadows began flashing in; where the deers would be, its shadow was already there. I slash at a shadow, feeling my blade bite into flesh as soon as I reach there. I would either pick its skull, or throat, or stomach; anywhere to destroy its ability to fight immediately. Then I danced away, spinning, narrowly avoiding its final, desperate attack, and went on to find another one.

Wherever I went, they fell like rotten, hollow trees, unable to withstand a simple strike. Of course, I could see everything didn't mean I could block them all; choices have to be made. I nudged right a little, arm outreached, the cold, bloody tip of my blade swiftly entering the buck's chest between two ribs, impaling its heart. A grunt escaped my lips as an antler crash into my left arm, right below the shoulder. I took a small step back; the scratching sound made by the antler against my bone injected fury in me; I pounced forward, driving my blade horizontally into the deer's neck; the vertebrae snapped. The great deer slumped and collapsed, its sparkling eyes dim and murked.

It went on and on. They hit me, I hit them back harder. They tried to kill me, I killed them. Since I killed the animals most efficiently, I was soon deep in the pack. My expensive Freljord leather armour stopped my lungs from being speared, but still the impact force was huge, and probably cracked a rib or two. Adrenaline rushed through my blood vessels, my limbs quivered with raw, untapped power, and for now, I lost track of the pains in my body.

Why should I fight so seriously? It wasn't because of responsibility, that was just pure trash 80 year-old elders taughts us; well, few people survived to the ripe old age of 80, so we didn't need to heed their advices often. It was for survival-I could argue like that, but it wouldn't really differ a lot whether I slay 10 deers a minute or 8 deers or minute. In the end...I didn't know. Maybe I just liked the sensation of power surging through me, power dominating over the others? Or, it might be due to a fear of death, that nothing must go wrong in order to survive.

Either way, I felt it was just an excuse. The ongoing fight didn't really allow me much time to ponder. I blinked, and slashed again.

Finally, the other hunters caught up with me. Not because I had slowed down, but due to the simple reason the deers were retreating. Our task was complete-the tribes would now continue scattering the demoralised creatures, and butcher them. All for the survival of our tribe-the Evernight was near, two months with scant to no sunlight at all. It was impossible to produce any food during this time; the snow and coldness would take anyone that dared venture out of the Obelisks. Without the meat from this hunt, we would starve. And die.

Judging from the size of this herd, we could survive this winter with ease. The fight was over, I sighed in relief; as my body relaxed, my sore muscles twitched with pain. Various injuries now exacted their tolls on me, and I feel almost overwhelmed by the sudden sensation; pulsing, burning, it swept through my body in a merciless wave.

"Are you alright?" a soft, tender voice questioned. I turned feebly and saw Joana looking at me. Her cheeks, red and hot from combat, couldn't conceal the worry in her blue eyes. She slung her long, curved blade back onto her shoulder, dumped her pack onto the blood-soaked ground, and began rummaging for things. Her calloused fingers were still trembling from the intense action earlier, and it took her several moments to produce a pile of mashed herbs and some cloth.

"Well yeah, I'm fine, I guess." I muttered, not wishing to expend too much strength on talking. I was getting pretty woozy, everything in my sight slightly out of focus. I decided to sit down, take a few breathes, and let someone else patch me up.

Joana squatted down and removed the furs and armour from my upper body; her dark amber hair, coated in blood, tickled my cheeks. She put the herbs on my wounds-not too deliberately though, in fact the motion was more like slapping than placing. "See how much you've hurt yourself." She frowned, "You're too rash to move. Your actions are ill-advised."

"Well, you guys couldn't have fended against so many deers, so I have to..."

"Distract right?" she sighed, "You'll eventually get yourself killed, sooner or later. I know you are strong, but even the strongest wolves hunt in packs." She wrapped the cloth bandages around my wounds loosely to give space for the swelling later on.

"Nice quote, you surely have learnt something from the Watchers." I looked down at the ugly purple bruise on my lower ribs, "Well, I guess you can't help with my ribs. I need to find an Elder for that."

She sighed again, looking into my eyes, her gaze containing considerable complexity.

"Well," I started again, "on the bright side, I didn't die. And if not for me, more of you would have died."

"True. Only Jeffrey died this hunt. I guess this is somewhat of an improvement. Next time, just don't try to kill yourself."

"Alright, alright." I promised half-heartedly. Both of us knew well enough that next time there was a fight, I would still for no reason at all, delve into the most heated part. Still, a promise is better than nothing...it showed that you actually cared. "Now, I might need some help walking back to the camp. Mind lending me a hand?"

So, below the bloody, swelling oval egg of a sun, we paced slowly back to the campsite, leaving a thousand corpses to be harvested.

* * *

><p>Night was cold, and long. It was so lengthy that an exhausted warrior could lie down and sleep cozily, waking up with a relaxed grin only to stare still at the thick night sky. Patches of clouds hovered above, obscuring the faint, yellow object that looked more like a wheel of cheese with rat-carved holes.<p>

They lit fires in the camp, tall pillars of dry wood ignited to give an orange, flickering flame. Wisps of fire would quiver in the cold wind, tickling your senses ever so lightly only to retract the moment afterwards. It couldn't provide much warmth; most of the heat were carried away, evanescing into distance. Slabs of meat, blood frozen to form deep burgundy patterns, were roasted on the fire. The scent of charred flesh propagated through the spacious campsite; the smell was so thick and touchable, that oil almost dripped down our tents. A lot of cheering were heard, together with the occasional muffled noise made by some brawling drunkards.

Despite the festive atmosphere, not a lot of people were outside celebrating. Not because they didn't have the mood, but simply because it was cold outside. Evernight was cold, and already made clear its presence; increasing gusts of northern wind, accompanied by frost and hail, plagued our nights. No one would risk going out unless he or she was very fit; else it meant suicide. Better to sit in the (relatively) warm, fuzzy tents to try enjoy life.

As for me, I was simply tired. I laid sprawled on the floor, a thick mattress separating me from the dirty tent base. Wool clung to my skin, hugging me softly like a lady (someone with considerably less strength than our female hunters)'s passionate caress. Heat spread from my body to the mattress, and it in turn warmed me. I would have wanted to go out and socialise with my fellow hunters, but my sore ribs told me not to. I got that patched by our elder before dinner; he forcefully held my dislocated segments of ribs, and snapped them together like twigs. Thick bandages, hardened with wax, circled my chest so tight my exhalation was constricted.

My friends' giggling laughter pierced my tent, high and shrill and lighthearted. The next moment, several heads burst open the front flaps, looking at me with ridiculous grins. Their faces were peach red, eyes bulged large like pearls; pretty drunk already, I assume. "Come on!" Don, the guy with black bushy hair and hairy arms stumbled in, trying to drag me up. I frowned in distaste at the black marks left in the tent by his grimy boots.

"Aye, don't be so rude, Don. He is quite hurt, not like you guys." Joana swatted him, sent him hurtling straight out of the tent; he crashed into several others, inducing a chorus of whines and screams. Her auburn hair had been cleaned; she looked pretty good under the dim lamplight.

"We need to carry him gently!" she laughed, lifting me off the ground in a cradling position. Though I wasn't particularly muscular, nor was I a wimp; even so, I seemed as light as a three year-old in her grasp. "Come help me, he's so heavy!" she huffed jokingly, almost dumping me to the ground.

"Stop, stop...I'll come with you guys. Just spare me the injustice." I struggled in her clutch, and after a few moments, finally managed to made contact with the ground using my lower limbs. My body ached and groaned from the impact. Oblivious of their cheers and jeers, I snatched my fur coat from a corner and followed the euphoric pack.

We were largely unnoticed as we approached the central bonfire. Most were busy celebrating, feasting or wrestling; but those who were still somber enough did recognise us, and their looks were reverent and...somewhat fearful. Not that we would crack their skulls right now, but that if we one day for some reason decided to do so, they would stand no chance.

Joana easily cleared a spot for me, just beside the group. We occupied the prime spot, close enough to actually feel warm and roast the meat. Logs were piled up to form a conical pillar, fire sprouting from between, red and golden yellow, twisting and wavering, rising towards the black night sky like the outstretched hand of a drowning, desperate sailor. Oil dripped from the deer meat we roasted, crackling and popping atop the rough, charred logs, sending out an occasional spark or two.

The night carried on. We added another pile of logs to the fire. More and more have retreated back to their tents, packing for tomorrow's departure or just sleeping. The wind intensified, now a howling gust that continuously bit against my exposed skin, scraping my eyelids like a sharpened knife, the kind you used in barber shops. The sky had been cleared, the clouds expelled; the Northern Trail laid its silver satin across the opaque sky, shining diamonds embroidered on it. Racing along the Trail were the Twin Hunters, brother and sister that got elevated by the gods; legends said that they had sacrificed to defeat and banish a monster of terror. And above them all, hung at the epoch of the stardome, the Crux, the bright cluster that always watched over the northern lands. The Lidless Eye was especially bright today; it provided guidance and protection to the Watchers, and they treated it as their patron and fountain of wisdom.

Someone walked out of the tent behind us-the largest tent, ornamented with bronze and iron and tusks of great mammals. The man had a long nose, bent like a hook, and his face was paler than snow. The deep blue robes, the colour of deep glacial fissures, signified his role-a Watcher. Not a single gaze was shed on us, he was paying no attetnion; but as he had passed us, he jerked back sharply, and glared sharply at me. I glared back.

Several figures followed behind, obedient. Their robes were an even deeper blue, almost fading into the background; thick wraps couldn't hide their undeveloped bodies. These were Apprentices, boys or girls about my age (yeah, I would still call myself a big boy), or a tad younger, selected by the Watchers to train. Only one out of fifty or so could become a Watcher, the chances were slim, but stupid parents who felt their lives were nothing but boring lies nonetheless send their children to the pits. Oh, most would die in some kind of training or weird and impossible tasks.

Except Lis. Most prodigal in ice magic, rumours circulated among the tribes said she was already chosen to become one. She skipped out of the procession and came over. She pulled down the hood of her cloak, her sapphire eyes scanning through us. Some of her unusual azure hare twirled upward to form a duo of cute cat ears. We welcomed her warmly; we were friends once, and are probably still friends now. We used to hunt together before she was sent to the Watchers, a little less than two years ago.

"What is the Revered One discussing with the elders?" Tom, one of the hunters, asked. How come we had to use a stupid honorific while mentioning the Watchers? We didn't have to do that to the elders.

"The Watchers is increasing their share of the hunt to forty percent of the meat. Master said it's to pay for the tutoring of new Apprentices, apparently. To award our tribe's exemplary performance this time, we'll be allocated an extra share. "

Forty percent? That was an unacceptably high amount. I thought of the icy glare the Watcher shot me prior, and anger rose, uncontrollable. Watchers? What in Runeterra did they watch?

"What did they do? They don't deserve that much." I grumbled. "What did they send us? A Watcher, the lowest rank out of all, that isn't remotely useful at all." I didn't realise my voice was getting louder, "What did he do? He didn't heal our injured, didn't help kill a stag, didn't even utter a prayer for us! All he did was watching over us, like what a Watcher would do!"

When I had finished the speech, I found myself standing in the cold wind.

"Hush!" Joana scrambled up and covered my mouth with her rough palm. "If someone hears you and report to the Revered One, you'll be executed for blasphemy! Also, the Watchers united the tribes for the hunt, we wouldn't have had so much food if not for them."

I growled in anger, still wishing to continue with my ranting. But as I tried to take in another breath, my ribs ached mightily, jabbing my nerves. For a moment the world went spinning, then Joana's protective clutch was upon me, and I steadied some. Lis walked over, and touched my forehead, whispering, "Joana is right, dear Samael. My Master isn't a benevolent person; don't ever let him hear what you've just said."

A pulse of energy surged down my spine, cool and refreshing. It reached my ribs and instantly numbed the pain; I exhaled deeply, sitting down again. "I hope you get well soon, Sam. I must go serve my Master now." And with that she left. And we were alone again, with neigh a person close to us.

The branches we used to skewer meat rested quietly, thin wisps of gray smoke escape the blackened wood, spiraling upwards. In the distance, the tents darkened one by one like fragile paper lanterns. As we huddled close, finally realising that the fire's cracking sound was louder than our conversation, the night had fallen asleep.


	3. II - Frostborn

Quick note: This chapter is posted ahead of schedule so people will feel hyped (try if you don't!) about the story and start following. Comments pls :3 Don't expect the actual update to be this quick.

"_On the thirty third day of time's beginning, after all lands, oceans and skies hath been made and set, Sephyll, the Moon Goddess, was sent to guard over the distant north. But then she deserted the land, and Evernight ensued."_

_-2:11, Tablet of Time's Dawn_

* * *

><p>The next morning, I woke up to the beat of the drums. It was actually almost noon, the late sun having given sufficient patience to light up the sky. The weather was somewhere between "cool" and "frosty", the skyline devoid of clouds, extending to infinity. The sun was mellow-if you looked directly into it; the light that showered my arms barely carried heat.<p>

Men and women were toiling in the field. Piles of carcasses strewed around them, still fresh and uncontaminated due to the coldness. They swung around big, blunt knives, cutting off slabs of meat from the dead animals. Smaller kids moved in streams, carrying the meat over to the great bonfire we feasted at yesterday; the elders had set up a wooden contraption to smoke the meat. The burning of pinewood and deer fat mixed to form an awkward, worldly smell. The whole place was a gigantic, floundering hotpot, men, women, human and animal tumbling and shuffling within.

I was late, apparently. As one of the vanguards yesterday, I was spared the hedious task of chopping stuff off dead animals. Still, it would be nice to sit at a corner, like my friends were doing now, and spectate the wonder with encouragement. I kept the furs on (it was cold), but didn't put on the armour; there shouldn't be any serious battles today, and I wished not to participate in those naive, childish fights among young people-well, I was technically still injured. I kept my shoulderguard with me; I had always polished and furnished it carefully, for I had bought it from a rare wandering merchant. Again, expensive stuff.

Joana wore simple shirt and pants today, but kept the tall leather boots on since we were departing soon. A thick, gray cloak draped over her body; she didn't put the hood up, hair tied behind with a bronze ring and flowed freely from there. She sat on a dry patch of withered grass, knees tugged between her arms. She saw me approach, and waved merrily. Her eyes were quite sore and tired, her smile seemed forced; she didn't want to speak a lot, apparently. Yawns escaped her thin, red lips; she took no effort to conceal the fact the she was pretty worn out. I could get that; after all, they had all suffered from some injuries yesterday, and didn't recover as fast as I could. Ah, not to mention the excessive drinking; I was honestly surprised no one died from alcohol poisoning.

Don brought us food as we sat there doing absolutely nothing. Lunch was simple; two pieces of hard bread, half a bowl of gruel and a small piece of meat. Now that the feast was over, we must maintain our normal diet to preserve food for Evernight.

When the sun had completed two-third of its journey, the work was done. The meat was strapped together like firewood, then dumped into giant satchels. We had to carry the spoils back to the Obelisk later, we didn't have the resources to acquire horses and donkeys. Not like the lone Watcher-he stood there, overseeing the workers loading the prime share onto the backs of his herd of horses.

I heard lots of complains. Elders of different tribes argued furiously, giving out absurd and obscure reasons why they should receive more of the meat. Since the quota for each tribe was considerably less this time, many feared it might not be enough to sustain them through Evernight. In fact, I would have feared for the same, if we weren't getting an extra portion already.

What would the others do when they feel they're treated unfairly? I shared my concern to my friends, but they didn't seem perplexed; with the Watcher around, no sane person would in theory do anything to break the "peace". Lis came over and informed us that we would be departing last, since we're most prepared to cope with sudden incidents. As we listened, she extracted a handful of blue crystals from a pouch at her waist, and gave us a few each.

"I crafted these the previous night." She smiled amiably, stroking her azure fringe. "They'll help you to calm down and focus on whatever you're doing. I infused ice magic in it; it can protect your wounds from festering."

"Thanks for the gift, Lis." We all beamed in delight. For hunters like us, always treading the brink of life and death without caution, this could be very useful. I picked one, held it before my eyes, and observed closely. Below the clear surface, small swirling symbols floated in the crystal; tiny, but clearly visible, the patterns giving me a certain inspiration; the feeling was difficult to grasp and recount; I felt something pulsing through my eyes, and I let out a soft exclamation of understanding; but quick enough the knowledge just vanished out of my mind again.

"So, you finally mastered Runic Letters?" I inquired.

"Yeah." She replied gleefully, excited. "I completed them last month. They said I could become a Watcher finally, after this hunt. Arbitress Samus praised my intelligence in learning magic, saying that I could very possibly become a Seeker in a few years."

"Wow, that's really good." I mused in wonder. A Seeker in a few years? She wasn't yet twenty! That would also be great news for our tribe; Seekers, those endowed with profound understanding of Runes and ice magic, were respected and honoured massively among the northern lands and Freljord. Their ranks were much higher than the ordinary Watcher; with one that came from our tribe, our safety was pretty much guaranteed.

While I wished to continue with the conversation, I saw Lis' face suddenly turn white and expressionless. Her eyebrows twitched slightly, signalling me to just stop talking now. An icy sensation crept up my spine, diffusing to occupy my body and senses. I turned around, slowly and stiffly, to meet with the Watcher's hellish cold eyes.

He stared at me like a vulture at his prey. His sharp look tried to pierce through me, but I refused stubbornly. I heard a low growl when he passed me; then I heard a clear sound-someone being slapped. He dragged Lis away, scolding her sharply for not helping with the preparation of departure. When they were far enough away and we started whispering among ourselves, he turned, and shot me another stern, killing look. Well, eyes could never kill, so I stared back.

"Why would he do that?" Joana muttered, confused. "He must be so busy preparing his stuff, he's almost paranoid today."

As people started discussing, I lowered my head, not wishing to participate. What would you do when your student's going to surpass you soon, and you can never hope to stop that? The answer was obvious: do what you could now.

After all, the secret for domination had never changed in this frost-coated land; strength, and strength alone. Why the Watchers were able to assume sovereignty over the scattered, chaotic tribes? Power overwhelming.

* * *

><p>We strapped the meat and other baggage tightly to the sleighs, and started pulling them. The ground was dry, the friction not too taxing for us. Joana, I, and a few other hunters stayed with the elders in the front, partly to protect the baggage train, partly to let us have some more rest; tomorrow, when we'd went further north, it would be our turn to pull the sleighs. Kids and women also helped with the transportation, carrying bags and baskets, advancing sure-footedly north.<p>

The sky was cold, the day was short. We could probably do about thirty kilometres a day if we go at full speed. Even though the terrain ahead was flat and easy to tread, it would still take us a bit over two weeks. The elders' attitude towards snow was paradoxical; if the ground was snowy, we could probably walk a lot faster. But then, an unexpected snowstorm could very well bury all of us alive. Besides, the Evernight was never far away.

The last tribe had set on their way half an hour before us; however, I could see their silhouettes distantly. They weren't advancing quickly. In fact, too slow even for a leisure walk.

"Why are they moving so slow?" Joana asked, puzzled. "Are they having some difficult issues? We should go help when we reach them."

We trudged forward. The whole tribe was pretty quiet, everyone focused on their toiling. About twenty minutes later, we reached the other tribe. We accompanied a couple of elders to go forward and inquire.

"You see, some of the sleighs are not working." One of their tribe's elders groaned and complained, distressed. There were red lines drawn on his baggy cheeks, showing that he was an elder of high status. "My people can't pull these malfunctioning machines, they're too tired and hungry to do that..."

"Oh, that's unfortunate." Our elder quipped, showing his empathy. "Perhaps there's something we can do for you?" he offered halfheartedly; I knew from his tone that if the other tribe really would request him to help transport the things, he would decline.

"Thanks for you offer, you are truly benevolent. Our children are so hungry, they really need some help." The high elder replied enthusiastically, dragging us deeper into his tribe. Our elder wasn't exactly sure how to respond and get out of this.

The next moment, he realised he need not to.

"You may help by...dying." the high elder half-laughed, half-cackled. His slack, detached skin flopped giddily on his wax-yellow face, as he slipped a dagger into the assistor's heart.

We watched, bewildered. A second later we were woken by the dying hiss of our elder, and the swarm of frantic men that wished to tear us apart...and eat us.

Joana was already giving orders. Her voice was hushed, and faltering, "Don, Myron and Arte, go for the west. Tom and Frest, go for the east! Run as fast as you can, and tell our tribe to be cautious." _If they're still alive_. "Anne, go find the Revered One. Only he can stop this from worsening."

"And you, Joana?" Don shouted.

"I'll be here with Sam! While we fight and distract them, flee!" she shouted back.

"The elders..." Anne screamed.

"Dead!" it is my turn to roar. "The oldest dies the first, only the strongest and swiftest remains. Escape now, or you'll be called a fool!"

I turned to face the chuckling elder, now surrounded by his young warriors. "Why?"

"Son, the world is a cruel place." He tried to be solemn, to mock me, but ridicule got the better of him, and he began chuckling again, "Remember the story of the honest wolf?"

"He got torn to pieces, after befriending the hounds and removing his claws." I replied coldly. His condescending attitude and mocking words made my blood boil.

"Exactly, son." He chuckled again, looking at me as if I was a toddler. "Don't trust anyone, don't ever put down your guard. Your foolish elders are great counterexamples, and you're soon joining them. As for why we have to do this..." his glare turned vicious, his tone sharp and unforgiving, "The Watchers have already taken too much. Your petty tribe could not take more. We will starve, my poor son, and the only way to prevent that is to destroy you tribe and take your food. I'm not sorry, son."

I fell silent. He probably thought I was humbled or startled by his words, but in fact I was just thinking. Why? Why would they initiate such a foolish plan, when their tribesmen were no match of ours?

I narrowed my eyes, staring at him, poised to strike. I didn't put my armour on, but my hunting blades were with me. I could kill him, then retreat before their warriors figured out what just happened. But then I shuddered, looking into the sky behind his pathetically weak body. There were several flags, painted with different animal parts: a boar tusk, a wolf paw, a vulture's beak, an eagle's eye. We stood no chance.

I struck anyway. I swiftly reached for the blade's hilt, then swung horizontally like a recoiling spring. The warriors, jeering and mocking me, did not expect such a response. The fang-like edge of my blade tore open one's face, widening his mouth to his ears, then sliced into the high elder's sagging neck. I knew it would be cool, and intimidating, if I lopped off his head and send blood flying everywhere, but that would be slow. I withdrew the blade when it bit into his neckbone, spun in a furious cyclone, chopping off several hands, and started fleeing. The elder collapsed, a lifeless corpse, his disfigured neck tilting to one side like an unwanted rag doll.

Escape proved to be an impossible task. We did successfully flee to the periphery of the tribe, but then fully armed men closed in upon us. It was depressing: close enough to see my kin, but never close enough to reach out and stop the slaughter. I stood back to back with Joana, blades elevated, body poised to spring at any danger; I could literally feel the raised hair on her neck brushing mine. I didn't know whether my companions made out alive, except for Myron-his mutilated corpse stooped not far from me, his primary sexual organ removed by the Serpent tribe as a trophy.

All over the field, our people were humiliated-pressed to the ground, kicked, fisted and spat upon. There were still fierce resistance, but our numbers dwindled. I saw Don dragged by his hair, both arms sawed off, then beheaded. His eyes were gouged out, the Eagle tribe believed they were sources of magical powers; the remainder of him left to rot. He screamed loudly before death.

Naturally, we fought on. I dumped the blue crystals Lis gave into my mouth, and swallowed them. An icy power circulated through my vessels, trying to calm me down. But no. I focused everything at that jet of energy-my rage, my wrath, my confusion, my subconscious thirst for blood, the pulsing, throbbing strums of my heart, blood, muscles and bones.

I felt myself intruding that exalted source of magic, untouchable by bigots and fools-and altered it. Something ignited my whole body, my arms shivering from the sudden heat I almost lost grasp of my blade. Everything seemed so clear, so discrete, so distinguishable: the patterns on their armour, dents on their blades, the one thousand different emotions in their fervent eyes, the flow of air, the coldness of the winter gusts, the sweltering stench of death and cowardice.

At that moment I didn't know what to do. Either I die, or I kill all of them and survive; but that wasn't exactly something I was free to choose from. My kinsmen were perishing. I was sad. Very sad. Then I discovered I was sad, but not sorrowful, and the sadness probably emerged from the fact that someone died. Were they not intimate enough for me to actually feel something deeper than that? Perhaps there's a magnitude one must reach to activate the next level of feeling?

I sliced them open; they died. This was the first time I tried using two blades at once, and though I had never practised, it felt awesome; people fell twice as quick. They scattered from my side, and crumbled like a broken wave. It felt good, to be invincible-then I realised, they found backstabbing more effective.

Joana's breath was getting heavy. I couldn't turn to help; that would have our backs exposed, and we would both die. Warriors from the Bear Paw tribe closed the gap between us in a matter of seconds, their muscular arms protected by iron armguards. They tried to break my arms and wrestle away my blades, but I was fast; before they were at my vicinity, I opened their throats.

My back was suddenly cold. Something had sliced open my clothes and went into my flesh. It didn't go in deep, but instead halted there; a warm, thick liquid trickled down the blade to my back. Joana held the blade, which passed by her side, with her left hand-bare.

Blades hovered at her. With one side of her body stationary to hold the blade, she couldn't move. One passed through her shoulder blade. Her sword dropped, clanging. Another blade punctured her chest, emerging from the back, tickling against my skin. Then she dropped at my feet, blow spewing out from her mouth, like moths kissing fire.

I swear, something probably snapped in my mind. That was the first time I learnt about the power within.


	4. III - Frostborn

A relatively short chapter, just get hyped and leave comments :D

"_After nine-hundred and ninety years of strife, the Frost Queen finally expelled the evil. She installed her followers in the fertile Freljord, and scattered the misguided to the north. Then, she made the White Tower her residence, and watched over all Freljord from there."_

_-Freljordian Folklore_

Joana had fallen, I was too busy to help her. Yet her agonising hisses tapped against my ears, hot, flowing blood soaking into my boots.

Something had gotten hold of my heart, and squeezed forcefully; repeatedly, wanting to punish me and destroy me for my negligence. Blood evacuated my torso, surging into my brain, purging redundant thoughts of sadness and rage.

I was crystal clear. I knew I was angry, I understood the reason why I was so exceedingly angry; therefore, my anger vanished. It was as if my mind had been removed entirely from my past experiences and emotions, and operated on its own, floating atop water and vapour.

The experience was...difficult to describe. I walked forward, they stepped back. I scanned through them, ignoring their anger, desire and fear; I willed them to die, one by one. Then my body started working, brain commanding muscles which guided the way for the bloodstained blades-and dead they were.

I waded around the tide of men, reaping souls here and there like a farmer inspecting a harvest ruined by snow; frantic, impatient and desperate, yet understanding the situation was beyond repair. I couldn't care less about who I killed: men or women, child or adult, it wouldn't make a big difference. The coward ones fled from me, but there were always more fools feeding their flesh to me.

I knew I should stop. It wasn't ethical to attempt to cleanse a whole tribe of life; and it would difficult to do so, there were so many of them. But when I turned around briefly and saw my kin either dead or subjugated, and the contorted expressions on Don, Tom and Myron's faces, and Joana, whose dissipating life I still fought to guard, I continued.

Oh, we were like that honest wolf, deceived into disarming itself; still, we wouldn't go down without leaving them bite marks.

I felt strength fading. It drained out of my body, bringing with it my spirit and perseverance. How long could I fight on? I beheaded another man from the Serpent tribe, sliced an elder into asymmetrical parts, howled wildly, and tossed the question out of my mind.

"Stop! What are you doing!" a crackling voice rained down on me. It wasn't very authoritative, but extremely intimidating, with hints of violence and death. Some sort of primitive magic was woven into the command-my enemies halted mid-fight, and instead bowed reverently towards the Watcher. I took the opportunity to slit open a few more throats, but then everyone stared at me; coldly, impeachingly. I turned to face the Watcher, staring at him with narrowed eyes. The Watcher uttered a spell; instantly, ice formed around my feet, rooting them to the ground.

"Can anyone tell me what is going on." The Watcher snapped; though the sentence was contextually a question, he didn't seem to require an answer. While he started his egotistical speech, I looked around for Anne, who was supposed to bring the Watcher over. I found her dragged by one of the Apprentices; she tried to stand on her own, but it wasn't very successful; there was a very large wound on her left thigh, and her other foot looked out of shape. She winced painfully with every step, but no one noticed.

"The Watchers gather you, unite you, give you guidance to survive through winter. And what are you doing to repay us? Fighting among your own once I've left? Stupid, irrational, and utterly useless." His eyes squinted over me, scrutinizing, then barked at Anne, "Didn't you tell me they're attacking the little tribe of yours? Why do I see it the other way round? Your kinsmen are slaughtering people here and there."

"I swear to the Lidless Eye, dear Revered One," Anne replied feebly, "it was they that assaulted us first. We were only fighting to defend ourselves."

Behind us, the other tribes had already begun moving our share of meat to their sleighs and bags. No one in our tribe could stand up and stop them.

The Watcher grunted. His gaze was still focused on me, as if looking at a dangerous prey. Lis, who was right next to the Watcher, shook her head slightly, telling me not to resist less he would use more powerful spells. I refused, and gave the obnoxious Watcher a teasing grin. Ice piled on my legs, creeping taller and taller, almost reaching my hips; he wanted to subjugate me, to humiliate and abase me, and for some reason-slay me. I felt immensely offended-and ridiculed. I could break the ice, even if I knew nothing about magic-I knew it, I just knew I could do it without any problems. My heart was starting to pump fast again; the pulses had returned to my muscles and vessels. So I stared even harder at the vulture-nosed Watcher. It was a gesture of challenge.

"Saar, release Samael, and stop our tribe from being further attacked. Now." Lis demanded coldly.

"You dare order me? You're still my Apprentice. Call me Master, bow before me, and perhaps I'll give your pathetic friends a chance." Saar, the Watcher, mocked.

"The hunt is already over. Technically, I am also a Watcher now, on the same rank and status with you. You can no longer give me orders." An icy chill congregated behind Lis as she stated the words, "As a fellow Watcher, I advise you to give this matter a fair judgement and solution."

Saar's face turned from white, to red, to yellow, then white again. He stood grimly, a solitary statue, and began thinking. The rest of the world stayed silent.

"Alright...as you've requested, I will judge this fairly." He smirked grimly, "I saw both parties participating in the fight; both parties are responsible for this. Since you've already paid the prices of quarreling with lives, there will be no further punishment."

"Pack your things and go your ways, before the Evernight arrives. Go, now, and bother me no more."

My kinsmen hushed in disbelief. Triumphant laughter exploded from the other tribes; they would survive, we would die.

"We're going back to the Mountain." The Watcher waved at his Apprentices, gesturing them to get going. Anne was left alone. She could move no longer.

Our one remaining elder rose shakily, staring at the Watcher; there were betrayal and confusion in his eyes, but he dared not accuse the Revered One of anything. My kinsmen struggled to get on their feet; some could, but the others couldn't-they were dead. Some were still alive, but not for long. I saw a land of blood, gore, and tears. Our carts and sleights were empty, scarcely anything were left after the raid. We were all silent. The world seemed to us a ridiculous, cruel and totally incomprehensible place; how could this happen? And how could the Watcher allow it to happen?

Coldness stabbed my skin, not from the winter gusts, but from the other tribes' demeaning looks. They were eager, very eager to avenge their fallen brothers and exterminate us once the Watcher had gone.

"Let's go! What are you waiting for?" Saar roared to Lis, but she was unmoved.

"I will, as a Watcher, escort them to safety. After that I will return to the Mountain." Lis' voice was harsh and firm, "Mind your words, Watcher Saar. Don't forget you can no longer command me."

"As you prefer, Watcher Lis." Saar growled like a hungry wolf, "I have no means to determine your course of act, but you will surely be condemned when you return. The Watchers do not tolerate selfish acts."

The other tribes were dumbfounded. They still eyed us with greed-they desired our remaining resources, our Obelisk, our people that could be enslaved. But with Lis already standing in us, they hesitated.

"Go. What are you waiting for?" Lis commanded in a monotonous tone, crisp and unforgiving. "You are defying a Watcher's order?"

A blue, transparent mark faded into existence atop her head. It was one of the ice Runes; I didn't know what it was, but I felt inside the impeccable power of a snowstorm. Of course she couldn't cause a real one; but it should be powerful enough to instantly kill a couple dozens of people. Saar paled too, then hushed his Apprentices to depart faster.

One by one the tribes left. They should be satisfied-they would not hunger. _We survived_, the thought suddenly popped up in my head. I looked at my remaining kin, then myself: scathed, bloodied, but nonetheless alive. I felt reassured. The pulse had withdrawn and vanished, leaving my muscles slackened, bones and joints aching mad. My legs wanted to buckle, I wished to lie down, rest, and take a nap. Then I saw the pool of blood at my feet, the deep, grievous wound on Joana's chest, the blade which still stood like a monument reminding me of something. My face paled, and I screamed in frenzy.

* * *

><p>She lived. The blue crystals helped slow her blood flow and gave her energy to continue. She was a few steps from death, Lis told me-she almost lost touch of Joana's pulse at one point.<p>

Men and women came out of their tents. We lit a fire in the centre of the ring of tents we set, and huddled close to it. The fire was small-we didn't have much firewood. But then, there wasn't a lot of people; only a hundred and fifty of us, strong, young and mostly men, still got the nerves to sit out of their tents. Children were already asleep, haunted by the events of the day; women and old men (if any still remained) tended to the injured, whose moans filled the whole campsite with sorrow.

Our last elder died from a stroke moments after we were confirmed safe. There was no one to guide the tribe; though no one had yet said anything, they looked unanimously at me and Lis for guidance. Well after all, it were us that kept them alive.

"This is going to be a long trip home." I started a conversation with her in our tent. Joana was laid next to us, not waking up. Her cheeks and lips were pale white satin, but her forehead burned a feverish red. Lis imbued a piece of cloth with ice magic and kept it on her forehead to alleviate the fever. The whole on her chest wasn't huge, but extremely deep; blood seeped through the thick layers of bandage and blossomed, a vivid yet misformed flower. Her shoulder bone was shattered from another strike too-that would take a fairly long time to heal even with her physique.

"Many will die while we return." Lis was silent, pondering on the stark, merciless fact. "But we have to go. Tomorrow. Else the Evernight will come, and no one will survive." She spoke bitterly; "I feel useless now. Even though I've practised and trained for so long, my magic couldn't help. I couldn't light a fire with it, because I could only distinguish fires. I couldn't heal their wounds, I couldn't find us food." She laughed sadly.

Anne limped in, her right ankle splinted and bandaged up. She supported herself on a stick, and reported to us the amount of resources we had. It wasn't a lot.

"We have to depart tomorrow." I scanned through the list of foodstuff we retained, and decided. "There is simply no other way. Every day spent stagnating is food and time wasted."

"Many will die." Lis sighed.

"When the other option is that everybody dies, this seems the better choice."

"It would take us everything to return home. And after that...I don't know."

I seriously didn't know.

* * *

><p>The next morning we packed our tents and departed. The ground was littered with corpses; we couldn't burn them, not unless we waste a lot of fuel. Animals-vultures, rats, worms, dogs, had been waiting patiently for us to leave. They would feast on the corpses, and carry their round bellies to hibernate. We would have to keep going.<p>

The carts and sleighs carried not food, but my injured kinsmen. Everyone had to help pull the sleigh-women and children included. We trudged through the barren northern plain from dawn to dusk, still I felt time was running short. On the first day, over thirty women and children dropped; we couldn't do anything to save them, they were simply exhausted. Many of those who were already wounded died from the cold. Someone would die silently every hour; we would stop for a moment in silent mourning, then resume the voyage north.

On the third day, we ran out of wine. Many complained about the cold at night, as there were no more wine to warm them up. I told them to hug one another. The next morning, I found four people burning wood in a closed tent to keep warm. They all died from suffocation.

On the seventh day, it began to snow. More people died, but we carried on.

On the eleventh day, there was no more fire. We ate raw meat and stone-hard bread.

On the fourteenth day, all but twenty of the wounded had died. Only the young ones survived. Joana woke up the day before, and I hugged her dearly.

On the sixteenth evening, when the sun had sunken into the abyss below and wouldn't re-emerge for fifty days, we reached home. It was dark.


	5. IV - Frostborn

No reviews and comments, I am mildly sad :P This is more of a transition chapter (you'll see a lot of these later on), but I took the time to explain some basic stuff about this world, hope not too boring.

"_At first, men lived in peace. Nothing was needed [to govern]._

_Men began acting for greed, and virtues and morals were created._

_Men grew cunning, so instead of virtues, laws and orders were made._

_Men grew reckless, defying orders; to subjugate them, force was used._

_At last, men ceased to care. With nothing left to fear, the world collapsed._

_This is the age of heroes._

_The hero will not return the world to its place, but make the world his._

_This is the age of man."_

_Lines 267-274, Of Men and Lice, Dravidias (?-11. CLE), Ionian philosophist, poet and politician, executed by the High Council on charges of heresy._

* * *

><p>The Obelisk our tribe inhabited was a tall piece of granite. Extending perhaps twenty or thirty meters from the ground, it would have been grand and majestic if not for the marks time had wrought on it. The tall end had crumbled, the granite rocks piling in a derelict lot; its surface was a tattered ruin, with deep brown stains streaking down.<p>

No one knew when these structures were created. From the beginning of the tribe's history, we'd been living here; so did other tribes, in their respective Obelisks. A myriad of naturally formed caverns filled the interior of the Obelisk; the flat, spacious ones became our residences, other caverns storage rooms or common halls. Over the effort of several generations, our ancestors had carved a rough staircase at the west of the obelisk, which connected various caverns at different elevations.

Out of all the tribesmen, only three hundred remained, and many were women and children. Almost no one old-they all died. One day I saw a couple of kids playing hide-and-seek in the main hall. It was haunting, hearing their innocent laughter ricochet off the huge void of the hall.

The Obelisk had been pretty crowded and stuffed, now it was empty like hell. Everyone just stayed in their rooms, there was always someone that they could mourn for and reminisce. It was always cold, the lack of living things aggravating it; with scarce food and no fire, they huddled at the most candid corner of the caverns, praying that the cold wind wouldn't find them; like an oarless boat amidst an ocean of coldness.

I moved into the same cavern with Lis, Joana and a few other hunters. We were now the strongest in the tribe, and hence would make decisions. Besides, Joana still needed a lot of care for recovery.

Whenever she woke up, I would always try to talk with her. I could see her expression was anguishing; she really was eager to jump up and give me a hard beating, but just winced in pain everytime she tried to move. I would clutch her left hand above the layers of soft bandage and lock her fingers in mine, move them around, so she wouldn't feel numb in that arm. At her request, Lis prepared a salve from the blue crystals and some herbs that would make her wounds heal faster; in return, it would amplify the pain.

Three days after we returned home the Evernight came. I spent the whole day at the tallest place of the Obelisk, where the ceiling had collapsed into rubbles and exposed the sky. I leaned against an erect, intact strip of granite wall, piling swathes of furs and cloth around to defend against the cold weather. I knicked a bag of wine from the storage, even though little remained; I thought it would be poetic (not that I'd read any poems) to bring some with me.

I sat there for the whole period of time, starting from what was previously dawn and ending when the night was so dark and quiet it must be over midnight. The sky was clear like a piece of darkened watch glass, crisp and clean and easily shattered. There were no clouds, no sun, no migrating birds or stray airborne creatures. The south was an endless plain of frost, snow and withered plants; mountains showed their tips at the horizon, rising and falling like the rugged edge of a torn piece of paper. The same sight extended to both east and west, except that far at the east, I spotted a lone shadow of an Obelisk, idling among the barren land like a lost child. The north consisted of nothing-a void, I would say. A mist draped the landscape to the north, but I could imagine: a land with nothing, simply nothing but snow, ice, melted snow, and the soil frozen beneath.

A panoramic view of darkness. At that point, the world was only me, and the myriad of lifeless matter that encircled my solitude. If I closed my eyes and removed every thought from my mind, then I was associated to no one; I needed not to be associated with anything lively in Runeterra. The world was mine, and mine exclusive; but when I tried to extend my reach and grasp for tangible evidence, the cold jaws of winter snapping upon my fingers, forcing me to retreat.

I thought of a lot: the past, the future, but nothing about present. I realised I was probably a very tiny and indistinguishable part of the world, which was largely unknown to me, as were those whose lives I'd destroyed or bade farewell to. I was probably one of those comets wading across the sky now, apparent yet not even bright enough to give the deep blue ssky another hue of light.

This was a pretty depressing discovery, so I switched on another topic instead. I reviewed my past, and counted the faces I'd seen in my life; there were maybe less than a thousand of them, most of these I knew next to nothing about. There weren't a lot of people I really was familiar with: Joana, Lis, Anne, Tom and Don, Arte, some other hunters.

A lot of them had perished.

I pondered on. It was a kind of introspection, only that I'd forgotten most of the content. At one point several hours after I'd first begun watching the starry sky, the sky turned a grayish blue, with whims of soft glow around the vicinity, like a remnant kindle in a recently distinguished fire. But it stopped there, unable to continue the transformation; the sun never came out, the sky died down again, colour fading out of existence until the sky turned monotone. The Northern Trail materialised, the Crux beaming white and cold. I saw the Lidless Eye blinking at me, uttering an unknown prophecy of pure enigma.

When the night was thick and dark, and nothing was left to think, I went down again. Then I decided to think of the present. It was still very annoying.

"One good news and one bad news, which one do you want to hear first?" Anne asked, steadying herself against a cavern wall. Her sprained ankle hadn't healed yet and she was sporting a couple of bandages.

I shrugged. So she started anyway, "After surveying all the storage caverns and secret stashes, I've concluded that our food supplies are running out soon. In a week or two."

O wow. That really was bad news; though I never expected to be able to carry the whole tribe out of winter, the prospect looked grim enough.

"The good news is," she paused, and added a little optimism in her voice, "That's calculated using 800 people. Now, with only 300 to support, our food supplies won't run out in a month. We still wouldn't survive till spring when we can sow and farm, but there's still hope."

Hope. What a quaint and exotic term. We had to get food back within a month, lots of food-else the tribe would. I didn't want them to turn into cannibals; besides, there weren't much quality meat to be found on them.

But where to find food? Digging under the ground hoping that you break into some random storage silo? Chances were slim.

"I am going back to the Watchers." Lis, who was quiet all along, suddenly spoke. "It is time that I return, or they will think I have deserted."

"So you're abandoning us?" I instantly felt angry and betrayed. But I didn't let my anger show; I wanted to hear why.

"Come with me, Samael." She spoke softly.

My voice rose, "So you want to recruit me into the Watchers?"

She looked at me with a strange, confused gaze. Then she chuckled, "See how stressed you are. The burden on you is too much, you judge before you even think."

She stood up, put her hands on my shoulders, and faced me straight. "Come with me to the Watchers. Tell them the injustice you have undergone, the wounds you have suffered, the people you lost. I will be your witness."

"And then?" I murmured, astounded by her proposal.

"If they listen, request justice and compensation. If they don't, talk until they do. They can not turn down a petitioner."

I considered the prospect thoroughly. It meant food and assistance for our tribe, it meant survival; but it also meant that I would have to bow before them, and be humiliated.

It was a pretty damned situation.

"Alright." I finally said, "When are we going?"

* * *

><p>We spent the next day (or night, since it was never day) preparing for the journey. We packed in foodstuff, warm clothes and necessary weapons, compressing them into two small packs so we could carry them easily, and still walk fast. Then we prepared the magic devices: Lis made some basic salves and ointments for easing inflammation and controlling wounds, while I fidgeted over two crystals engraved with runes, not sure how to place them together.<p>

Lis put the sharp, triangular tip of one rune opposite to the other's indented base. Her delicate fingers swiped swiftly through the air; a glowing, intangible line connected the two crystals, holding them in place.

I asked her what was this for. "This is the easiest and most cost-efficient way of making a lighting device. Basically you chain runes of different pacticity together and pass your magic through it; light will be given out when magic is converted to a lower form going from rune with higher pacticity to lower pacticity. If you place the right runes together, at the right angle and right distance, then almost all magic power can be converted to light. So very little magic is required."

"Oh." I scratched my head. That was why the elders said "knowledge is power." "Nevermind, I don't understand a bit. But that means we won't get lost in the dark, right?"

"How clever." She grinned proudly, "Normally this would be inefficient, since the best configuration of runes is difficult to obtain. But I am a genius."

She added a third crystal to the configuration. While the previous crystals were an emerald blue, this was different: it was colourless. "Quartz," Lis explained, "much cheaper than the Runestones I used. Of course, the best carrier for ice magic is actually opal, but that's really expensive."

She put the piece of quartz in front of the linked Runestones. Then, she drew several more lines linking them together. I observed the runic engravement different from the rest; rigid and straight contrasting with the others' curved and repetitive patterns. "This is a Constructed Rune. Constructed Runes are Runes created by men that describe rules of nature or actions of mankind. They're easier to tamper with and configure, also easier to learn."

She picked up the two blue crystals and held them close to my eyes. I looked into it, my senses touching the runes inside, feeling their shape and meaning. I felt a chill. "These are Elemental Runes. Runes of nature that we somehow managed to copy down and utilise. They're difficult to trace, and delicate; they must be constructed with great precision to be useful, and are also hard to combine."

"Combine? What do you mean?"

"You see this Rune," she continued with her explanation, "It is a combination of two basic Elementals, the ice Rune of freeze and reflection."

"Reflection?" what was that?

"Yeah, this Rune is the law of when light reflects off a smooth icy surface. Elementals are _everywhere_. Some are obvious, some are subtle; some seem redundant while others are of crucial importance."

"So, when I successfully combine these two into a viable and stable Runic pattern, I have constructed a dipactic Rune. One that's made from two primary Runes. The Constructed Rune I just made is an instruction of direction; instead of going everywhere, light will now only radiate towards the direction designated."

"Oh, I remember now." I slapped my forehead and exclaimed, "You made a torch."

We departed the following morning after having a quick meal. Not much knew of our quest; we didn't wish to give them false hope. Only a few hunters knew about this. Joana begged to go with us, but she was too weak still and couldn't stand the cold.

The moment I left the Obelisk I was engulfed by darkness. The world was a canvas of ink, so blotched and stained I couldn't make anything out of it. The sky, the earth-they all merged together, the horizon an invisible, arbitrary line between. I couldn't even see my own fingers. Only the crystals on Lis glowed faintly.

And it was cold. Exceedingly so. The temperature inside the Obelisk was already pretty low, but seemed nothing compared to outside. Nothing to shield the wind, nothing to give warmth; the sweeping gusts casually pricked my skin, the coldness so deep and tangible it soaked into my flesh like a thousand little knives of frost. After a few moments, though, I was numb. I hoped it was a sign I had adapted, while in fact I might be losing heat too quickly. I prayed to the Crux silently.

I touched Lis' palm. It felt like a slab of ice, just softer. She handed me a piece of fur, telling me to put it on. When I asked her how cold she was, she told me she was naturally accustomed to the cold weather since she practised ice magic. Okay, that made sense, I told myself.

"Where are we going?" the surroundings were quiet, so I only needed to whisper in order to be heard. Whenever I opened my mouth, cold air rolled into my throat and down my lungs, causing a piercing, constricted sensation; it was difficult to breathe. I looked to the front; I couldn't see anything. I turned the opposite direction, but it was the same; even the Obelisk had almost vanished.

"Follow the star." Lis whispered softly.

"Which star?"

She pointed at the Lidless Eye, shining cold and bright above our heads. There was a faint, silver ember on her fingertip that danced and spun around. Then she pointed front-a blazing celeste trail extended from her fingertip, disappearing to the south.

"Wow." My mouth gaped in wonder.

"Follow the trail and we'll reach the Misty Mountain." She then explained how she did it, "There is a magic circle on the peak of the Mountain, constructed by the first Iceborn. If you're a Watcher and you can see the Lidless Eye, you can perform a simple rite that links you temporarily with the magic circle until you reach the Mountain."

"Well, that is certainly useful." I nodded.

The following days were spent in the simple, repetitive process of walking, stopping for rest, then begin walking again. The wind howled less belligerently as we went further south, but it was still pretty freezing. Both of us were fast walkers: I was physically strong, while she was adapted to ice. We could do eighty, perhaps ninety kilometers a day, since we spent all our time walking and nothing else; the terrain was pretty easy to walk on, nothing too rough and inclined. It wasn't tiring for me, but Lis was lesss physically fit.

Nothing strange, fancy, or mildly interesting was encountered. The world was a lifeless place, everything veiled by the darkness. As we proceeded further to the south, there were times when the sky lightened and became less opaque-still there was no sunlight, but the sky turned a deep, clear purple at times of the day, and the cold slightly lessened.

On the seventh day of the walk, we had to slow down. It was getting steep and upsloped. Wind, which swept down from the mountain, wanted to tear us apart; it was one of the worse experiences I'd had, constantly crushed by the weight of the half-frozen, fourty-kilometers per hour stormwind that wished to expel every living creature from the sacred Mountain. Lis dismantled the magical torch, and tapped into it; the Runes began burning from within, giving us some measurements of warmth; not much, since by simple logic ice wasn't really much flammable. But it saved our lives.

My hair a tangled mess, my clothes sodden, plastered to my body, siphoning warmth from me. Under an eerie, ghostly glow, Lis' cheeks and lips were devoid of signs of life: pale white like satin, not a trace of red remained. It seemed an eternity that we'd gone through; time frozen in place, we the only ones enduring the torture. But then I saw light, warm though inconspicuous, and I knew we had arrived.


	6. V - Frostborn

Comment if u liek dis, or I cri everytim ;_;

Please help turn my face to dis ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

* * *

><p>"<em>When I was small, my wish was to grow up quickly and defend the truth with my sword. But when I grew up, I realised there was nothing known as "truth". There were only lies, bad lies and better lies.<em>

_It was much later in my life that I discovered one could simply forge truth with his arms. Then I held the sword again, and crafted my own truth."_

_-Master Lito's biography._

Once the sun showed its face, it seemed less cold. Though the wind still wuthered, a spark of hope was ignited, filling us with ephemeral warmth. We saw the guardpost soon after.

It was a sturdy-built shack. Snow stacked on the roof, which creaked from the weight. The walls were unpolished, mildew infesting due to the moist climate; several vines latched around, but they were of an unhealthy, dry yellow.

The guards were apparently not entertained by their chore, hiding in the shack playing cards and smoking from a pipe. So when we knocked and entered without permission (to be fair, we spent like five minutes standing outside without a response), the stench of tobacco penetrated my sore lungs like gunpowder, making my nose wrinkled.

One of the guards, the older one, was not amused by my first reaction. He looked at me condescendingly, then turned away and kept his gaze from mine, as if having any connection with me would degrade himself. Lis dragged the younger, unwilling guard over despite his violent protests; he wanted to draw his weapon and kill us for our disrespect, but once he noticed the icy, murderous aura forming behind Lis, he changed his mind.

What followed was a quick, quarrelsome exchange between the two Watchers. The guard didn't want to go outdoors. It would be cold, it complained. But Lis told him he was a Watcher who used ice magic, so shut up and just do his job. He reluctantly accepted our demand, probably due to the threatening Rune Lis drew in the air.

The guard led us through a tunnel, and after over an hour of walk, brought us to the southern side of Misty Mountain. The first thing I noticed was sunshine-much stronger than on the other side. It was warm too, with no wind and amber sunlight pouring down our frosted limbs. I could finally remove a layer from my plump assortment of furs and cloths.

We then proceeded uphill; thousands of flights of stairs we trod, spiralling up the snowy hillside. There were mechanically operated baskets that could get us to the top, I was told, but I decided not to use them. There was still ample sunlight, so I wanted to have a clearer look at the Watchers' sacred place.

After perhaps one more hour of walking, we reached flat ground. A gigantic platform was carved out of the Mountain, like a small city hanging in the sky. Most of the space was occupied by houses: some were carefully constructed, with elegant ceramic roofs and white, newly furnished walls; those were for the Watchers. The other houses were built without much consideration, just boxes big enough to hold people. Lis told me those were to house the servants and workers.

A female Seeker came, dressed in deep blue robes lined with gold and silver. Lis bowed to her, and gestured me to do the same; so unwillingly I lowered my head slightly. After a short conversation, the Seeker handed Lis a bronze key.

Lis led me to a row of houses situated at the far east of the building cluster. "This is your guest house," she explained, "You will be staying here for the time you're on the Misty Mountain. Seeker Nicole has gone to arrange for us the petition; let's meet again in an hour and we'll meet with an Arbiter for the case."

I unlocked the door, and went into the room. There were so many things I didn't have in the Obelisk: a bed, complete with mattress and a pillow; a wooden table and a few chairs with plush cushions; shelves to put things on (not that I have a lot); and finally, a bathroom with a mechanical flushing toilet. That was like miracle. There was even a shower in the room; there was no hot water supply now though.

The guest room wasn't spacious, and in fact a bit cramped. However, I could imagine the tribesmen's reaction if they first saw such a place: surprise, awe, and pure amazement.

I dumped my bag onto the table. There wasn't a lot of content; the food had almost ran out, and the clothes were all on my body. Since it was quite warm here, I decided to organise my garments into something more visually acceptable: a cloth shirt and trousers, boots, with a coat made from wolf hide. Not very appealing, but that was the best I could do.

Not much to do now; I paced around the room, not sure what to do. I threw myself onto the bed, feeling the springs contracting and supporting my weight; soft and comfortable. I was seized by a sudden urge to sleep-not because I was really tired, it was just that I'd never slept on something so good before.

When an hour had passed, I left the room and locked the door. Lis was already waiting outside. She had put on a turquoise silken shawl, and a new change of deep blue robe with embroideries. "Let's go." She said, smiling.

"Why is it so warm here?" I inquired while walking. Though the altitude was high, this place wasn't cold at all; I could feel warmth radiating from the ground and slopes.

"When we constructed this place, we managed to direct the flow of an underground heat spring up. That's where the hot water comes from. Miraculous, right?" she shrugged, "I don't know how the power of men could accomplish such feats, not with five hundred Watchers anyway; but my predecessors did it."

We had to walk up another two thousand flights of stairs before we reach the next part of the Watchers. Now I knew why they could withstand the cold when they go on missions; they must walk up and down so many times every day their bodies were strong from the exercise.

"This is the residence of the Seekers and Arbiters." The buildings were bigger and grander than the ones below, with different sorts of precious metals as ornaments; statues, myriads of them, decorated the houses. "Do you see the ring at the center? It is an arena for testing the strength of the Watchers. People die there every year."

A Seeker accompanied us further up the Mountain. Apparently, Lis wasn't authorised to enter the Arbiters' palaces, and needed someone of higher authority to follow. We walked up yet another two thousand flights of stairs; I was really getting bored of this. Nothing to look at when we go up, just snow and rocks.

The Arbiters' palaces were huge and majestic. Gigantic marble pillars supported the white ceramic roof, so polished and clean that it blazed ardently splendidly under the sunlight. I couldn't imagine how much it would cost to produce so much fine ceramic. The windows were stained glass of rainbow colours, the rims carved from fine silver. The front door was crafted from rich, regal purple wood, some exotic import from the south, I presumed; the door knobs were mythril and gold, carved into the icon of the Lidless Eye.

While I was musing at the palace's grandiose and majestic beauty, Lis went inside to fill some documents. She came out with two guards. "Tell you a good news," she said gleefully, "It is Arbitress Samus that will be hearing our case."

"Arbitress Samus?"

"I told you before, she is very kind towards me and teaches me a lot of things. Well, though Watcher Saar was my Master, Arbitress Samus is my real teacher." She held a fever-like reverence and admiration to this Samus woman, her voice was high with excitement.

I wasn't allowed to look around when we entered the palace. The guards would scowl at me and force me to look at the ground, threatening to smite me with their burly arms. I wanted to break them, they looked pretty taunting, but I reminded myself I wasn't here to fight. There was indeed a lot on the floor to look at: the carpet was finely weaved, with swirling geometrical patterns and delicate signs. A deep burgundy, rich in textures. The passing servants were better dressed than me, clothed in clean white robes.

The palace was a maze, a very big one. It took us half the time of climbing the stairs to navigate through the corridoors, staircases and chambers. Finally, we arrived at where I assumed to be Arbitress Samus' office. The heavy wooden door creaked and slid back, revealing behind it a huge, light-flooded room. A huge, slightly curved table extended to the flanks of the room, on it were placed piles of parchments, an ink bottle, exquisite quill pens and a tiny golden figure. The wall was a piece of glass, Falling from the ceiling to the floor; the landscape unravelled like a painting of Chinese ink, black and white and rolling down to the horizon. The altitude of the southern side was considerably lower than that of the northern side, where we came from. Silken curtains gave their way to the afternoon sun. At the center of the table were a deep purple teapot with three intricate porcelain cups, their handles like a swan's neck. A wide chair with leather lining and wooden handrests was placed behind the table, and on it sat the Arbitress Samus, patiently waiting for us.

Arbitress Samus was a graceful woman in her late thirties. Her countenance wasn't extremely attractive, but an aura of wisdom emanated from her round, sapphire eyes and artistically curved brows. Flaxen hair fell over her shoulders, glittering quite splendidly under the sunlight pouring in from the glass. Her body was enveloped by a simple white dress, with an assortment of ornaments: gemstones and bracelets on her arms.

"Welcome here, and please do take a sit." she spoke warmly, soothingly, her voice soft and harmonious. I felt there was no reason to resist her words, so I found a chair and sat down.

She surveyed me from head to toe, a look of interest in her eyes. She displayed no disgust towards my inadequate, out-of-place garments, nor looked offended by my lack of respect. I didn't know whether she genuinely didn't mind, or was just faking it.

Lis bowed before sitting down. She touched Samus' forehead, then her own, then her cheeks and lips: it was probably a gesture of respect and submission that Watchers used among themselves.

"Tell me your petition, and I will judge if it is correct to act." Samus said encouragingly. Her hand hovered over the teapot, but Lis reached it before she did; she poured one cup for her teacher, and handed her the porcelain cup with both hands. Then she poured us half a cup each.

"Thanks, Lis. That's very kind of you." She nodded and took a slow, elegant sip from the tea. "Do try some tea, it is from Ionia's forests. It is very refreshing."

When Lis heard the praise, her face blushed a little instantly, like a little girl receiving a candy. "And by the way," Samus reminded, "Don't forget to get your tattoo after this."

"Tattoo?" I mouthed to Lis soundlessly.

"Oh, its not a secret." Samus let off a small laugh, and began to explain, "All Watchers have a tattoo at the side of their neck. Lis just returned, so she hasn't got one yet."

Seeing that I had understood, she spoke again, "Let's not digress. You must have important issues to say, having journeyed such a long way. Please begin, tell me your story."

I told her everything. From the beginning of the hunt, to the night of feasting and celebrating, to the day afterwards, the beginning and ending of the fight, the judgement of Saar afterwards, and how everyone almost died on our way back home. Hell, I even told her how much people I killed, and how much was it beyond the proper definition of "self defence".

I saw Lis' expression change throughout the story. At various points, she was attentive, sad, or angry. But when I mentioned the killing-it should be a massacre, to be fair, she strongly indicated me not to do so, frowning all the way. Samus seemed to appreciate it though; not my killing, of course, but my honesty, spurting everything out at once.

"Who do you wish to make an accusation against?" Samus crossed her fingers, frowning, "You do realise this is a very complex situation. It could be a simple brawl, it could be something that broke the temporary peace code set up by the Watcher for the hunt; Watcher Saar, whose opined unfair acts, might be true, or he might just be following his own moral values."

"I'm not saying I don't trust you and Lis, but sometimes truth is fickle and easily misunderstood. There are other petitions, I tell you, backed by Watcher Saar himself. They wanted to kill you for killing so much of their tribesmen. Personally I believe your cause is more justificable, but the other Arbiters might not think so."

"That is?" I prompted her to continue.

"This will be a complex case, my dear child. One that you are not guaranteed to prevail. And if you lose, you will lose your life."

"Then what should I do?"

"You could decide to settle the petition right now without it being passed to the Arbiter's Council. The Watchers would be responsible for exacting the compensation from the tribes, and are willing to offer you extra food and resources, something your tribe needed desperately now."

So you were compromising me to settle the case? I thought. What a bureaucratic answer: efficient, quick and satisfies both parties. But I despised that sort of things.

"Or," she continued. "You could continue and pursue the petition." She looked at Lis, paused for a moment, then resumed, "I will personally support you two and cast my vote on your side. But I cannot guarantee the same from the other Arbiters."

"My child, this is a very serious matter. Which one would you choose?"

Which option? My anger subsided when I heard that last paragraph; maybe she wasn't really corrupt and twisted like Saar, maybe she really was fair, benevolent, and kind to the others. But which option? Settle the case, and the tribe would not suffer anymore. Continue with what I thought justified, and a lot might die-me, and the whole tribe. Joana too.

Judging from the Arbitress' words, she wasn't exactly optimistic with our petition. What should I do?

Live or die. Not only my life, but also my whole tribe's-three hundred of them, including ones that I liked or loved. It should be an easy choice: according to the iron rules of the northern lands, and my principles, I should survive.

The situation was a leverage, me on one side, the inexplicably heavy weight of my tribe on the other side. Naturally I should just let the heavy side weight and decide, and come out with the decision. I knew it was a lousy analogy, but I wanted to convince myself.

Fuck. I was selfish.

I rose from the chair, and bowed deeply towards the Arbitress. "Thank you for your help and guidance, Arbitress Samus." I thanked her sincerely.

She instantly understood what I meant. "Thank you for your story too, my dear child. May I ask what is your name?" she smiled, leaning forward to touch my brows.

"Samael." I answered, a bit uneasy from her sudden gesture.

"Thank you Samael, and thank you for your choice too. Your honesty and insistence on ideals is what I value the most on you. I wish you luck and success on your petition, I believe it is right. But now, the other Arbiters would need time to review all the relevant petitions and decide on what stance to take. I shall see you and Lis again tomorrow."

Lis leapt over and hugged Samus tightly. Samus hugged back, patting her back and tidying her fringes. Then we left her room; she to get the tattoo and report on duty, me to the guesthouse, awaiting tomorrow.


	7. VI - Frostborn

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><p>"<em>Do you understand your blade will never shine as bright again<em>

_Do you understand the land will never be as warm and light again_

_The world's peace of men but they will never be ablaze again_

_The future's in our hearts but we will_

_never be the same again"_

_Verse VI, Lament of the Ruined King, Bastileos de Hauzenknofen (c.480 P.L ~ c.410 P.L)_

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><p>I woke up at about nine the following morning. I had to admit, the journey to here was exhausting, and I hadn't had enough rest in days; it was difficult to lie down in the snow, bearing the cold win, let alone sleep.<p>

I left the curtains open, so sunlight naturally sprinkled down on me, reminding me to wake up. Sunrise was pretty late here, but at least there was a sun; not like my Obelisk where we wandered along twenty four hours a day in darkness. The Watchers and the Apprentices were much less lazy than me, and were already out in the open spaces, practising magic or weapon wielding techniques. Some younger Apprentices-I judged from their soft facial features-were being led around the platform by a older Watcher, jogging.

Who knocked and slammed open my door wasn't Lis, but two Apprentices. Their bodies were well-built (they got so much food up here it was impossible to get hungry), their blue robes tidy and clean. They looked at me with contempt; they disliked this task to escort a magic-less hunter from a pathetically small and weak tribe up to the Arbiters, it seemed. Pretty natural for them.

"Go." Their words were overtly terse. I almost laughed; it was comical of them, pretending to be authoritative with their eighteen-year old, soft and clear voices. When I didn't started moving immediately, they shot me icy glares. An invisible force appeared from behind, trying to shove me out of the door, strong and impatient. I frowned-I felt insulted. What were they treating me as, your everyday so-weak-can't-even-hold-a-blade starving kid? I couldn't believe someone weaker than Saars was admitted to the Watchers; I always thought Saars was the worst guy out there, that was why he could be in his fifties and still a lowly Watcher. However, these two...kids, their magical power was so weak I could keep standing here for an eternity.

Of course I didn't do that. They would be infuriated, go chuck some sharp ice shards at me, and I'd be angry and retaliate, and oops I killed them. Not exactly something I want, when I still needed to beg them to exact revenge legally for my tribe. So I complied, and walked out of the guesthouse-unfaltering.

They were probably quite offended by my refusal to submit. So they decided to walk faster and bark at me to hurry up. Of course, they barked; in their eyes, I was a dog without a future, living and dying in the dim, soggy Obelisk of mine while they would ascend to become noble Watchers.

The walk carried on silently. Quite a number of people stopped to take a look, and laughed teasingly at me. I ignored them. I walked the exact same way as I did yesterday, up those spirals of stone stairs. However, the Apprentices didn't continue to go up after reaching the Seekers' level, but instead brought me to the platform.

"Isn't the petition supposed to happen at the Arbiter's Palace?" I questioned. They didn't bother to answer.

We approached the center of the platform. Something wasn't right-where I was led to. I wasn't aware of the reason behind the suddenly change of plan, but my throat gobbled when I finally realised where was I led to-the Arena.

The ground had been swept carefully, and new sand was poured to replace the old, bloodstained one. The sand was a very pure white, very fine and delicate like small flakes of snow. The entire Arena looked pristine, with the marble pillars, archaic spectator seats and the white fighting grounds. Quite some people were already seated, including Lis and her tutor Samus. Lis was nervous, her brows squeezed together worriedly. Why?

A Prospector walked over, his voice booming, "And you are Samael the petitioner?" Prospectors were elevated Seekers, who were adept in both ice magic and physical prowess; to become a Seeker, you needed only to excel in one of the two. I bowed a little-I didn't wish to offend him, less he got angry and slapped my head off with the gigantic palm of his. "Yes. I am." I replied humbly.

"You must pass the test before the Watchers will hear your case." He stated in a matter-of-fact way.

"Why? It isn't in the procedures. Temporary rule to keep me away from bother you?" I narrowed my eyes, asking. The most probable explanation to this was that-someone wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible.

"Know who you are talking to, peasant." Hearing my accusation, the Prospector's face turned dark and grim, roaring. "If something similar happens again, I'll cancel your right to file a petition and throw you down the Mountain."

"Sorry, Revered Prospector." I lowered my head and apologised unwillingly. Get stuff first, then I would see if I could find an opportunity to beat this guy up. "So what do I have to do now?"

"Beat the man in the circle."

"But I don't have a weapon."

"Watcher Lis has picked one for you. Use it, or fight with your fists. No objections." He tossed me a curved blade-its shape at large resembled my hunting blade, though a bit longer and heavier, the edges less jagged. The steel gleamed with a dangerous white glow, like wolf's fang.

I stepped into the fighting circle. For some reason-perhaps pure visual entertainment, perhaps to symbolise something, the Arena was situated right next to the cliff. The damned Apprentice-or Watcher, if they really wanted to kill me-took every advantage he could. I had to stand near the cliff. I turned and looked down, instantly feeling woozy. It was so tall up here, the buildings below looked like toy blocks, and the men ants.

The guy I must fight was in his mid-twenties. He was bigger than me, with longer limbs and bulging muscles all over his arms. Hell, he even had a chain vest on him; so much for fair duels. Lis was on the spectator seats, so nervous that her fingers crossed together tightly, and her face was pale white. Even Samus looked perplexed; still, she took the time to comfort and calm Lis down.

What on Runeterra's going on?

He pounced and slashed. It was so sudden, like the sudden flood after a summer downpour. I couldn't react-I barely had time to raise my blade and block. The resulting collision sent me hurtling backwards, rolling on the white sand, stopping only several steps from the cliff. My blade soared high into the sky, then fell right next to me; I couldn't pick it up, my fingers were trembling uncontrollably from the pain.

I didn't expect that to end so quickly. I laid there, unsure what to do next. There were loud hushes coming from the spectator seats, and giggles of contempt as well; no one in the northern lands respected weaklings.

My opponent came over, I could hear his heavy, iron studded boots clatter against the sand. He spat on the ground in front of me, and kicked the blade to me; it made a chilling cut on my face, just below the right eye. It was as if he was saying, "You're so bad, I might as well give you another chance and you'll still die."

I hate getting insulted.

The laughter was getting stronger, and more disrespectful, as I laid on the ground. They probably thought I had already given up.

I was just waiting. For the pulses to appear. And I was not disappointed, they did.

A sudden heat engulfed me, empowering my muscles and tendons, sending my heartbeat rate to skyrocket, heightening my senses, my rage, my hatred, my shame. I rose steadily like a colossus, blade gripped firmly in my palm, and looked at my opponent, studying his body construction with contempt.

If I treated their Apprentices with contempt, I must also treat their Prospectors and Arbiters the same way. Else, I would be a coward.

I pounced, and slashed. His right arm rose slightly, hinting the trajectory of his attempted movement; my wrist twisted nimbly, the flat of my blade gliding just below his gigantic sword, and bit into his chain vest. However, it slipped-a thick layer of ice defended his lungs.

I retreated, then instantly sprung. He swung his sword in an arc to intercept, but I was fast. Halting my advance in the blink of an eye, I ducked low and barely dodged his swipe, pouncing into his vicinity. He stumbled back, swinging his sword vertically at me, breaking the air to create a thin, whining noise. I tapped my blade on his near the hilt, and drew its momentum to the right; the sword escaped his grasp and landed with a heavy thud.

He roared frantically, going further back; when he realised he couldn't outrun me, he swung his right leg in a furious kick. The metal-studded boot swung at me threateningly, aiming for my chest. I couldn't stop now; when it had almost connected, I twisted my torso sharply, the kick only landing briefly on my left arm, below the shoulder, and slid off, making him lose balance in the process. Gritting my teeth to resist the exploding pain, I drove my blade down his exposed neck.

The layer of ice formed was a few inches thick, and extremely hard. It wasn't difficult to crack though-I knew I could make it fizzle and vaporise almost immediately, the pulses in my body informing me of my temporary capabilities. But I was excited, and high from the sensation of fighting, so I took the hard way. The blade cracked through three inches of ice and into his neck.

I saw his awestruck, desperate face as he screamed for help; a weird satisfaction arose in me, and I relaxed. But before my blade could cut open his artery and bleed him, a gigantic force propelled me back; the acceleration was so intense my guts almost came out from my mouth.

"Be glad I stopped you, boy, or you will pay a dear price for harming a Seeker." The man who shoved me with magic spoke eerily, his voice oscillating between high and low pitch. Every time he spoke, a puff of white mist would escape his mouth; bad breath solidified, I joked.

I stood up and stared at him. My eyes narrowed again-lately, if I found someone threatening, my eyes would always narrow in alert. My left arm throbbed mightily, I could feel blood swelling and gathering at the center of impact; the bone probably was cracked, even if there was no sound indicating. I could not lift it more than a few inches before the sudden sting of pain stops me; it just stuck there like a faulty hinge. In the end I had to let my arm hang limply.

The mage began his offensive immediately, not sparing me any time to rest. Ice shards formed in front of him, darting towards me; I dodged those I could, and blocked those i couldn't. When I had dodged the initial wave, I felt a cold at my spine; I instantly leapt to the floor, the sharp ridges of the shards barely missing my back.

The next moment, I pushed against the ground with my right hand, springing up to avoid a series of ice spikes that punctured the ground I just laid on. I gathered my pace and sprinted forward-and almost bumped headfirst into a sudden ice wall; it was too thick to slash through.

The crowd began murmuring-not teasing me this time, but they felt impatient; they wanted to see me do something.

The situation was worsening for me; I was the rat, my enemy the omnipotent cat; it seemed a matter of time before I slipped and get impaled by one of those ice shards.

Or squashed. The ice mage flicked his fingers, drawing a complex rune in the air; the gesture seemed to drain all his energy, and for one moment he looked sickly. It should have been a great time for me to assault, except that several huge pillars of ice now shot out of the ground rapidly around me, like statues with all-seeing eyes, towering several floors. The crowd marvelled at the prowess of the ice mage, letting out screams of "Ooh"s and "Aah"s.

The next moment, they fell, closing up on me. The world froze in my perception-not due to the coldness that permeated the isolated space I was on, but something else. I watched as the colossal slabs of ice came down bit by bit, closer and closer to my head which will surely be squashed like a ripe melon. Pulses radiated through my right hand, I felt it vibrating at a great frequency.

I felt I could melt the ice. I gripped my blade harder, the pulses now injected into the sword. The world returned normal, and I must be quick to act. In the split second that followed I chose a weak spot-between two adjacent ice blocks, where I only needed to break a corner to escape. I leapt and struck.

There was a huge explosion. The blade went into the ice, and the transparent solid cracked and bursted like cheap glass. I materialised from the icy mist and vapour, my right arm full of small cuts produced by the exploding ice shards; but I survived.

"Stop. I believe we have verified what we're looking for." Arbitress Samus was somehow on the battle ground already; she lifted her arm, and instantly a huge ice wall, twice as high as the one produced by the mage just now, intruded between me and my enemy.

So it's over? My legs buckled, and I dropped on my knees, supporting myself with my right arm. The blade clattered to the ground-and shattered into small, rugged shards; the final strike was too great for it to bear.

"Samael, are you alright?" Samus crouched and asked, wiping the blood from my face. I nodded weakly, but in fact I felt queasy; I felt weaker than ever once the pulses had subsided.

I attempted to stand up, but my legs were shaking like jelly and I was tied to a ton of weights. So she just lifted me up and carried me to the spectator seats.

Samus used ice magic on my left arm to sooth it a little; examination would come later, after they finished bandaging my other arm. Lis sighed, "Do you know, you almost died there?"

"Yeah." I sighed, and shivered. The ice pillars-that almost killed me.

"No, not what you think." She forcibly turned my head over, and stared into my eyes. "They accused you of being an Unbeliever."

"Unbeliever? What is that?"

Lis sighed, "Basically, an Unbeliever is someone who practises chaos magic. Do you know the story that preceded and caused the formation of the Watchers? The Moon Goddess escaped Freljord, the Frost Queen defeated the evil god Belaecis and exiled him, restoring peace to Freljord."

"The Watchers were established to seek and destroy the Unbelievers: those who use chaos magic granted by the renegade Belaecis, and wished for the return of their evil master. Just now, if you shattered the ice using magic, they would probably be convinced you're one of the Unbelievers."

"But I didn't." Or did I?

"Fortunately yeah; now they'll only think you're a foolish peasant from some far away insignificant land that somehow got a lot of strength." She sighed, relieved.

My left arm was bruised severely, purple, dark green and inflaming red swelling all over it. The bone cracked, but it was just a small chip that could recover quickly; the medicine guy applied herbs on it, then rolled bandages round my upper arm and shoulder to stabilise the fracture. I was offered a sling, but I refused. We ate a quick meal, and then proceeded up to the Arbiter's Palace. It was finally time for revelations, revelations in plenty.


	8. VII - Frostborn

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"_Dragons have no remorse, because we face what is to come surely. You, humans, have too much remorse; you are naive, fragile, and faithless. Faithless towards the others, faithless towards your own self. You remorse because you have to latch onto something, and remorse is exactly the thing-anger, sorrow, desperation, all frozen in scathing ice._

_-Aldebaraas, King of the Dragons, to the Book Keeper of Shurima._

The Great Hall was located inside the Arbiter's Palace, on the axis of symmetry of the marvelous construction. It was deep, and so spacious it was almost hollow. Gigantic pillars, bronze inlaid with silver and crafted whirling patterns of dragon, stood at the sides of the Hall. Thick carpets covered the floor, extending all the way to where the Arbiters sat. Their seats were elevated up a high platform, the stairs leading there plated with obsidian and agate. The throne-like chairs were placed in an arc, four on each side with a taller, ivory-laid at the middle.

The Arbiters were already there. Normally there would only be one or two Arbiters resolving each petition, but this time the case was more complex, so five out of nine seats were filled. The center seat was left empty, the five Arbiters positioned themselves two to the left, three to the right. Four of them were men: one was old with a shaggy beard; one a middle-aged man with bare arms and multiple weapons on him; one of a similar age but wearing glasses, studying the old, yellow book in his hands; the last one around the age of Arbitress Samus, pretty handsome except for a scar on his right eye.

Chairs were placed on the sides of the carpet; Seekers and Watchers were seated there to hear the conference and guard the petitioners. I was surprised to see the ice mage I fought against in the morning sitting near the platform; so he was high-ranked in the Watchers.

There were also the petitioners who wanted to kill me, and presumably my tribe as well; they were kneeling subserviently before the Arbiters, knees grinding against the cold stone floor-there was no carpet there. They knelt so low that their foreheads touched the ground, their bodies a ridiculous, undignified arch. Lis was there too, but standing. I was the last to enter the Hall; after my entry, the door slammed shut with a bang that echoed in the Hall, pounding my heart.

I trod slowly to the front. The rugged soles of my hunting shoes made a soft, muffled sound against the carpet, dissipating soon in the air. A great amount of amaranth tapestries were hung on the walls and between pillars, still and unnerving like clogging blood. The room was silent, a hundred pair of eyes staring at me, scrutinising every part of my body and mind; but it wasn't tranquil-something was stirring deep in the Hall, malice and conspiracies.

The guards shoved me down to make me kneel like the rest of the petitioners. I glared, and straightened my spine, refusing to go down. "Just let him be, he's different from the rest." The weapon-collecting Arbiter commanded, playing with a bone dagger. He looked at me, and nodded with appreciation.

"Let the petition begin." The oldest Arbiter began, his voice a cold knife screeching across stone.

I was the first to speak. So I told them everything again, like how I told Samus the day before. Then Lis spoke to affirm what I had just said, and ended her speech with an oath to the Lidless Eye.

"Petitioner Samael, are you clear that the incident only occurred because of your food being coveted, and not due to some ongoing or ancient grudge?" the book-reading Arbiter questioned.

"Yes."

"Petitioner Samael, do you believe that the judgement of Watcher Saar is fundamentally biased and unrighteous to your tribe?" it was the old Arbiter's turn to inquire.

"Yes. Watcher Saar feels offended by me, and covets his ex-pupil, Lis' magical prowess, and in revenge wishes to undermine our tribe."

"This is a very serious accusation to make." Samus spoke. "Samael, do you really wish to make such an allegation?"

"Yes." My voice didn't falter for the least bit, "I saw it from his eyes."

The angry, old Watcher jumped up from his seat, pointing threateningly at me, but his speech was stopped short and he was forced back to his chair. "Mind your acts, Watcher Saar, we are in an arbitration." Samus warned him.

"Petitioner Samael, can you swear that your act of slaying is purely due to self defense?" the big Arbiter with lots of weapons asked with a complicated smile.

"No." I said, calmly. The Watchers at the side gave collected hushes. "I wanted to kill them. Because I hate them."

"Revered Arbiter, you heard what this rascal said!" one of the petitioners suddenly sprang like an open jack-in-the-box, shouting, "Kill this evil, cold-hearted, Unbelieving villain!"

The Arbiter growled, and clenched his fist. The petitioner was slammed flat to the ground, like a pestering fly swatted to death. "I accept this as an explanation. He hated you because you killed his kin. I would do the same, and slaughter you all, if you dared to kill my people." He said coldly.

We bowed again and went back. The other petitioners spoke. "Revered Arbiter," an elder from one of the tribes-the Serpent most likely, from the snaking tattoo under his lip, croaked, "This man in front of you, he is evil. He slaughtered my people like a heartless demon-oh, you wouldn't have imagined how his ill-omened blade cut open the throat of our young ones. There is no way he could kill fifty of my tribe without getting slain himself-he must be a creature of dark magic, an Unbeliever."

"He could kill fifty of you, he is strong. You saw earlier today how he managed to defeat a Seeker and went toe-to-toe with a Prospector." Ferrus, the blade-collector whose name Lis whispered to me just now, said. "I could kill a hundred of you faster and easier than him, does that make me a demon?"

The old Arbiter objected, "Of course you could, Ferrus," he murmured calmly, "but your powers are known and derived from the Frost Queen herself. We don't know how this strange petitioner acquired his power."

"Exactly, Revered Arbiters." A younger man from the Bear Paws rose, and said, "There is no way an eighteen-year old boy could gain such power by himself. His tribe is small and distant, with no influence at all, no traditions and no knowledge to grant him power. The only possibility he could have gained the power to rival the trained, Respected Seeker-it is very apparent."

"He is a monster!" a young woman in her mid-twenties screamed frantically, "He killed my friends like cutting weed, his blade coated with purple that sheared over any metal. He killed Justin-my brave, valiant Justin-with one strike. How is that possible! Justin was one of the best warriors in the tribe!"

First came the semi-logical claims supported by false information. The rest weren't logical at all-swears after swears, curses proceeding curses, instead of recounting my supposed sins, they just yelled at the Arbiters like a bunch of dissatisfied toddlers, begging to have me killed.

"Do you have any words to defend yourself or refute their claims?" Samus asked me after the noise had died down.

"Yes." I replied.

"Are you accusing me of being stronger than you and killing your men?" I began with a mocking, contemptuous question.

"The northern land has always championed strength and power. We were told to be strong-so we could survive. The Watchers do that; selecting the strong, removing the weak. Your tribes do that-when you treacherously ambushed my people, your basis was simple: your combined strength is stronger than mine, so you can easily overpower us and kill us all."

"Now, when the balanced has toppled-you find me on the stronger side, killing your men, your rationale suddenly changed. You accused me of being evil because I am stronger. Tell me," my voice had raised due to the anger, "is strength your monopoly? Who deems your strength legitimate, while mine isn't?"

The room truly silenced. The words reverberated in the great hall. After a while, the old Arbiter said, "But you broke the code of peace, kid. This is not acceptable at all."

"They broke it first, by attacking and killing my people." I spurted out furiously. Man, this old dude must have been bribed or something, he was just pecking on me without obvious logic.

Ferrus cleared his throat, "Samael, I'd better remind you: it is not obligatory to respect someone, but if you wish to accomplish your aim, showing the right thing to the right people is important."

"Sorry." I bowed to him, then bowed again to the old Arbiter, "I apologise for my disrespect, Revered Arbiter."

"Everything has been heard." The young male Arbiter interjected. "Does no one wish to make anymore allegations?"

"If not, the Arbiters will proceed to vote."

"I believe that even in the northern lands, where strength is valued before everything else, faith and oathkeeping remain important and cherished qualities. I vote for Samael's petition." Arbitress Samus said.

"Petitioner Samael's actions have caused unnecessary bloodshed and violence, creating chaos among the tribes. He has committed a wrong act, benefiting no one except his own pride and harming the interest of everyone." The young Arbiter glared viciously at Samus, "I vote against Samael's petition."

One for one now. Lis put her hand round my shoulder.

"There are laws not written in books, but enshrined in our hearts." The Arbiter closed his musty tome, pushed his glasses up, and declared, "A violation of such laws, in my opinion, are no less sinful than violating the rules set by the Watchers. The tribes that came today, you have committed the grave error of disrespecting oaths and breaking promises, in addition to insulting the other's integrity without any evidence. I vote for Samael's petition."

"Totally. I vote for Samael, because he is the only one among you all worthy of my recognition." Ferrus stated.

Three for one. Lis and I looked at each other and shared a sigh or relief. Unless there were some stupid rules like "the oldest Arbiter gets three votes", we would come out triumphant.

"Very well." The oldest Arbiter nodded, but flashed an icy grin. "But my fellow Arbiters, before we make the final judgement, spare me the time to call upon a final witness."

Seeing no objections, he called, "Come to the front, Saar, my student."

What? No wonder the old man leaned towards the tribes so much. Saar stood up and walked to the front, bowing, then stood opposite to me. His eyes rolled around like marbles tossed into a tumble dryer; his nose was great and sharp, pointing at me with malice.

"You are a scum." He spat at me. "You are weak, and small, and afraid of everything. You don't dare challenge me, so now you climb up the Mountain to let the Arbiters shelter and comfort you."

My fists clenched together.

"Face the truth-what are you?" he sneered wickedly, "You are of peasant descent, your tribe is small, and moneyless; ah, I don't know if anyone's still alive now. You don't know any magic, you lost the chance of becoming an Apprentice; heh, you wouldn't have survived in the training, so it made no difference."

"What wrong is it, compromising your tribe for the others? They are what made the northern land, you are merely a parasitic worm trying to survive. Face it-I am a Watcher, you are a nobody; you'll be a nobody till the end of your life."

"Revered Arbiters, I didn't know this place allows slander." I tried to keep myself calm and collected, but my temper was rising, my voice flaring-I felt pulses urging me to kill the obnoxious Watcher.

"Stop with what you're saying, Watcher Saar." Samus commanded, anger rising on her pale face, "The Great Hall allows not such degrading words."

"Let him continue." The old Arbiter swiped his hand, gesturing him to continue. Samus shot him an angry glare-the young male Arbiter returned with one of his own.

Saar cackled, "See? I can talk freely, and not even your Arbiter could stop me." He leered viciously, "I finally know why my Apprentice would help you, and accompany you up the Mountain. You found a quiet moment, seduced her with your rotten body, and slept her, didn't you?"

"That's enough!" Ferrus roared in abhorrence, a pillar of ice forming on his hand. The old Arbiter mumbled a few words; the pillar crackled and crumbled to the floor.

"You dare say that again?" my eyes narrowed again, as if I tried to squeeze him out of my sight. Something was burning hot in me. Anger. Oh, how anger gives motivation without purpose.

"She is your whore, you little cunt!"

"I could kill you now." I was so infuriated, I actually appeared calm. I was like a metastable pot of overheated water, sizzling into steam at the slightest provocation.

"Yeah? Try!" Runes appeared in front of him, and the next moment ice froze my fingers and crept up my arms.

"Stop! What is he-" Samus exclaimed in disbelief. Lis' sapphire eyes gleamed in dangerous aggression; a magic circle appeared in front of her chest, spinning, gathering energy from the atmosphere.

Are you insulting me again? I felt an irresistable urge to tear him apart, to rip his black, rotten heart out of his chest. He was so weak, so powerless, yet he smiled as if he was my master and creator.

I willed the ice on my arms to thaw. A pale blue light dashed through my arms, the ice vanishing all of an instance-it did not melt, it simply vanished into the air. I leapt forward, fist swinging at the Watcher's poignant nose. The spectators whispered to each other in blatant surprise.

A force of magic stopped me dead in track, forming a sphere around me. In my heightened senses, I could distinguish the owner of the magic-through its quality, wave form, strong and weak spots, and manipulation of elements in the air; I didn't attempt to resist once I figured out it was Samus who stopped me.

The old Arbiter croaked triumphantly, "And as you see, my fellow Arbiters, this is chaos magic." His hand slammed into the handle of his chair, and suddenly a huge stream of ice magic surged from his body, forcefully shattering the energy barrier around me, and pressed me to the floor. Samus paled and coughed when the energy sphere collapsed.

I gritted my teeth in frustration, but I couldn't escape the binding. I willed harder until my head cracked from the intense relay of thoughts, but every time ice vanished, there would be more to complement. Did I feel fear? Perhaps yes, I was a shame.

"This is not chaos magic." Samus rose, still coughing. Lis was concerned, and wanted to go up the platform to help her tutor; but Samus shook her head and told her not to. "This is not chaos magic." She repeated, as if to affirm herself.

"Chaos magic is characterised by the violent alteration of elemental density at the point of cast, and the shattering of elemental lattice inside its range of effect." She started protesting, "It will cause the bending and discoloration of space around it, which doesn't appear when Samael breaks free from the ice."

"But he did make the ice vanish, didn't he?" the young male Arbiter said, "What can it be except for chaos magic?"

"Chaos magic causes chain reaction in the adjacent space due to its destructive nature. Samael's power-no matter what it is-doesn't cause such a phenomenon. When he breaks the ice, the effect doesn't spread pass the limit of ice magic imposed by Watcher Saar. This is some other kind of neutralisation technique we know nothing of. This is definitely not chaos magic."

The Arbiter with the book spoke as well, "Chaos magic is a rare affair, something no one has actually witnessed in the latest one hundred years. The information in the book is scant and ambiguous; we shouldn't make a judgement until further investigation is done. We can hold him here, but we can't sentence him."

The oldest Arbiter's eyes bulged. A freezing gust swept through the Hall, instantly making vapour condense on my skin. "While facing the unknown," he stated slowly but confidently, "always resort to known ways. This is the third motto of the Watchers, and I hope no one has forgotten it."

"When there's something that matches the idea of chaos magic but no one knows if it really exists, it is chaos magic. We don't know if that neutralisation technique exists, but chaos magic surely exists."

"On behalf of the First Arbiter and the Watchers, I sentence Samael the petitioner to death on charges of blasphemy and wielding evil power."

I saw Lis turn to see me, her face grim and bloodless, tears welling in her eyes. _Are you really an Unbeliever?_ She whispered without making a sound.

_No._ I shook my head. In fact, I didn't know what was an Unbeliever until today. But now I was one of them...strange.

The other petitioners were starting to celebrate, discussing cheerfully the best way to execute me-cut off my flesh piece by piece, hang me up-side-down and dump me into a lavatory pit-stuff like that. I glared at them; they immediately silenced.

The argument among the Arbiters was intensifying, and finally the old Arbiter conceded, "Don't threaten me, Ferrus and Samus. But I will give you a day-until noon of tomorrow, to prove that he is not a chaos magic wielder. Else he will die. Meanwhile I will report to the First Arbiter about this affair."

"He came to me for the petition. Until he is proven sinned, he will remain under my protection and supervision." Samus said, but her voice wasn't steady at all; it was shaking a little.

"Sorry about you and your little tribe, Sam." As I was led out of the Hall, Saar laughed victoriously. The laughter was echoed by many more people, petitioners and witnesses together.

* * *

><p>I wasn't led back to the guesthouse, nor was I thrown into a jail cell or a dungeon. I was instead led to the office room where I met with Arbitress Samus yesterday. Samus and Lis had departed after settling me here; they were probably deeply disappointed by me.<p>

I just sat in the chair I sat on yesterday without doing anything. For nine hours, I was still and numb like a statue. I didn't cry, I didn't yell in frustration-the impending doom had seized me, blocking every other thought from being processed in my brain. Unbelieving. Chaos magic. Sin. Death.

Oh, how I enjoyed that sense of impending doom. I actually craved for it that time, and gobbled it down like drugs; I needed desperately something to hide, to hide from myself the fact that I had failed everyone-my tribe, Joana, my friends who died, or were gravely injured, Lis, and the kind Arbitress Samus.

Most important of all, I managed to completely fail myself. I had always thought this wouldn't happen, that the righteous and justified would always emerge victorious, that the wrong and sinful would be defeated and punished. This couldn't happen, it simply couldn't happen-I told myself over and over. But it did.

It was late in the night. Everything was silent-including me. In came Lis and Samus. Lis' robe was a bloody mess, there was a gaping cut on her chest, and her face was pale like snow, but she had to support Samus as they limped in. She helped Samus sit in a chair, then sat beside me; the scent of freshly dried blood was unnerving, but also waking.

I began to cry.

"Oh don't cry, my dear child." Samus whispered soothingly, and wiped the tears from my face. "It isn't over yet."

Lis handed me my bag, now fully stuffed. "I put in food for a week, clothes and some Freljord currency. Also two blades picked by Arbiter Ferrus," she began, wincing and exhausted, "I managed to knock out the guards at the posts; no one would discover until tomorrow morning. When you went down Mountain, go south-go to Freljord, go somewhere beyond that, perhaps, to find help for our tribe. There is still time. But do not return to the north."

Arbiter Samus continued with the instructions, "The other Arbiters will send soldiers to your tribe after the Evernight has ended, in one-and-a-half month's time. Find someone to inform your tribe; I am being closely watched now. Sorry, Samael, I cannot help you; I am injured from this afternoon's events."

"Arbitress Samus encased you in a protective circle to prevent the other Arbiters from harming you." Lis explained, "She didn't expect Arhus to land a mortal attack though, and was unprepared. She got injured when the sphere shattered. Arhus and Sabii had coveted Arbitress Samus' seat for a long time, and desired to install their own candidate on it."

I sobbed, tilting my head down, snot and tears all over my face. I dared not face the kind face and the caring eyes, unless I wanted to cry even harder.

Samus gave me a towel. I wiped my face with it, but tears came streaming out; so I pressed the towel against my face, and soon it was a hot, soaked mess. "You don't need to be sorry about me, Samael. I will recover in a week or two; you should start considering your journey, the road before you is forked and misleading."

"Why," I croaked, "why are you helping me? It would be easier to just throw me out to be executed."

"I know, the Watchers aren't all good and just." Samus sighed, "As you see, there are schisms and plottings even among the Arbiters. But that doesn't mean I don't have my standards."

"If you are innocent, then you always are. You wouldn't become guilty because of anyone's thoughts, even if everyone accuses you so. If you are innocent, you don't deserve to die."

"But what makes you think I am innocent? What if I really is an Unbeliever?"

"Even if you use chaos magic, that doesn't make you one hundred percent an Unbeliever. Besides, I trust you and Lis-you are brave, confident of yourself, and above all, honest. If you admit that you killed people, even when admitting this will leave me a bad impression and intefere with the petition, you _will_ admit if you are an Unbeliever. It is this honesty that I like about you, my dear child."

My face somehow went red.

"Samael, the path is laid out before you. You are free to go, free to go wherever you want. Don't contemplate too much on your mistake-it wasn't a mistake at all, it was just someone setting a trap; there is still hope. I truly belief you can find a way to save your tribe. I am sorry we can't help you on this, we both need a lot of rest to recover."

Oh, how abashed and ashamed I was of myself.

"Here, let me give you my blessing. It might not be much, but I hope it would bring you good luck." She touched her forehead, then her eyes, and drew two invisible lines along my cheeks with delicate fingers. Then she urged me to go, "Fly, my dear child, before you are caught and entangled in the nasty net again."

Midst the haze and mists, I descended six thousand, six hundred and sixty six flights of stairs, my shadow captured only by the dark of the hill every step I took.


	9. VIII - Frostborn

"_To pacify her people, the Frost Queen separated them into different tribes, sending them deep into the northern lands and chose fertile land for them. Then, when everyone had settled and lived happily, she collected their weapons, and smelted for them ploughs and harrows and scythes. But the northerners were a feisty people, and even with these blunt tools they started to quarrel and fight."_

_-Freljordian Folklore_

I climbed up the horse Lis prepared for me and rode south. It was a fine mare, gentle and tame; when I went near her, she whinnied in fear, sniffing the complex of negative emotions on me, but still lowered her neck submissively.

The darkness sedimented my thoughts, reawaking me from the lull during the flight downhill. I cried again.

I rode at night, I rode in the morning; I sped south chasing the lively scent of grain and flowers floating around, but the sunlight pierced my eyes, so the next morning I decided to shy away from the sun. I screamed soundlessly, whipping my gentle mare till streaks of blood dripped down her hazel mane, escaping the light that would render me bare and visible to everyone.

The world was bright, white snow reflected the light into my eyes, it stung like hell. A lot of times I found myself crying, tears dropping to the ground then freezing into the snow. More choked in my throat, cold and sour and itching; I opened my mouth, freezing gusts pouring down to scrape my lungs-it didn't feel solacing.

There was still hope, I knew, there was still a lot of things to be redeemed and retrieved. But it was difficult-exceedingly so. What to do? I had honestly no idea; power pulsed through me, but I couldn't use it to move a hill; even if I could use it to move a hill, it wouldn't provide my tribe with food.

I counted the ones that depended on me: my whole tribe: Joana, everyone else, Lis, perhaps Samus-she needed me to clarify I wasn't an Unbeliever. That was well over three hundred of them, and I had no idea where to start. I had no idea where I was, and time trickled.

It was too heavy for me to think. I...simply ran away. I didn't know what to do, I was weak, I couldn't defeat the Arbiter, I couldn't punish the tribes for killing my people, hell, I couldn't even have my fist on Saar's nose. So I ran away.

I rode until my mare wailed agonisingly. Impatient, I jumped off her; her head stooped, sweat frozen in her mane. Her legs buckled, she couldn't run anymore-nor could I, but I had to. I needed sights and scenes to keep my occupied, even if those were just endless terrains of snow.

I left her in the snow. Perhaps she would survive, perhaps she wouldn't, I had no such concerns then. And then I ran again, away from the sun, away from my shame and guilt.

At one point the emotions had taken over me. It felt like a gradual process of sinking deeper and deeper into a tank of mercury, until one moment when you snapped under pressure. And then...I didn't know what happened. My cause was lost, my hopes and wills erased from my memory. All I did was escape even further, but no matter wherever I went, the whiteness followed in pursuit.

The paranoia went on for more than a day. When I was hungry, I grabbed something from my bag and swallowed; when I felt cold, I ran even faster. The inauspicious sun trailed me.

Then, I saw men fighting. I hated seeing people fighting-so inefficiently, wasting their strength and time in self-proclaimed heroic moves that killed people a hundred times slower than I did. So I joined them.

My intent wasn't something stupid like "teaching them how to fight better", everyone would identify that as trash. Nor was I assuming a stance: one side had more people than the other, and the side with less people had women inside: I would, under normal circumstance and mentality, stand them, but I didn't consider such details. I wanted to kill people.

It was cowardice, I admitted. I couldn't eaxct revenge on those who harmed my people, so I destroyed similar beings-humans, for consolation. It was bad. Really bad. The northern land regarded survival as its primary ideology, and sometimes I had to kill other people to survive. Yet this wasn't one of those scenarios.

I charged into the fray, the duo of blades whipped out like a tempest of cold steel. The blades-long, slightly arched with jagged teeth, glimmering a frigid, eye-catching blue. Not expecting my sudden entry, the soldiers yelled in anger and surprise. They tried to fend me off, but my sharp blades sliced through their plates and drew blood out of them, spluttering in beautiful, crimson stream.

I struck, I parried, I attacked and defended. These men stood no chance before me-I glared at them like lion to rabbit, executioner to prisoner; their fate was predestined. My clothes were drenched in blood, some splashing on my face; I licked, and it wasn't tasty.

It was rusty and sour, like the shame and confusion in my astrayed mind.

I killed like-ten, twenty, I stopped counting after that. There were a lot of men, tens after tens that would charge at me with their longswords and wooden bulwarks, looking at my thin frame with disdain before dropping, twisting madly, terrified. There were a lot of men, and gradually, bathed in blood and other miscellaneous fluids, I was fed up. But now the soldiers were scattered and horrified, the smaller group broke from their defensive formation and started attacking.

When the men had spread out, I saw the women the soldiers were protecting: one was a fair girl of about sixteen, her white smock and dress grey with dust, confusion and fear running astray on her face; the other lady was fairer still. Her eyes were big, and deep like the ocean; she had a tall nose and delicate lips, stretching in an meticulous curve. But her most prominent feature was her hair-a silver waterfall of smooth, refined strands, tumbling all the way down to her waist. It glazed in the mellow sunlight, like a fine piece of silk with elaborate texture and hues. She wore a simple crown of mythril with a piece of ruby in the middle. She wore a blue dress and a golden sash around her slender waist; a long, white shawl with silver embroideries draped over her shoulders, fluttering. She was such a beauty, the world seemed to suspend when she entered my vision; I could not guess her age.

She wasn't your ordinary damsel-of-distress though. I watched as she drew several arrows from her silver-embellished quiver, and fired them one by one; her aim was perfect, every arrow she sent claimed a soul. She stood in corpses, but she looked pristine, not defiled by the blood and death around.

Out of the blue, several dead men sprang to life. They leapt relentlessly at the lady with weapons of all kind; she was surprised, but stayed calm, deflecting the first strike with her bow; it snapped, but it deflected the blow before breaking. Then she jumped to the right, narrowly dodging a spear.

I saw the tattoos at the back of their necks. My first reaction was to grip my blades firm; then I cringed and my hands started shivering. Regardless, I let out a loud roar and went at them ferociously.

My blade passed through the first Watcher's back and came out from his chest. Blood spurted like a fountain as I found his heart, and he instantly collapsed. The second one retaliated, but not for long; I grabbed his fist, ripped the bones out of place, and cut off his whole arm in a clean strike. Then I plunged my other blade into his tender stomach, and left him rolling on the floor, clutching his fresh, hot intestines.

The remaining two abandoned their target, instead going for me, the one with more threat. The lady propelled herself up to stand, looking for something useful for fighting. The Prospector-I recognised his tattoo, even though it was old, fading and scarred-muttered quick words, and sent her flying back, colliding against a rock.

I growled fiercely. I saw the laughter on their lips, they couldn't conceal the contempt they had for me; apparently, ambushing and killing two Watchers was no big feat in their eyes.

I hated being insulted. The laughter, the nonchalant, teasing jests, they reminded me of my despised memories; in the course of fighting I had slowly regained sanity, but the jests, they triggered my dark side again. In the past month, so many people had displayed the same face to me; it wasn't amusing. It didn't matter if they were stronger or weaker than me, or if they knew anything about me at all; they laughed, and scorned me, because I am I.

It was as if the broiling volcano of anger and shame inside me suddenly discovered a way to channel its heat. And so I erupted with indescribable fury.

The sky was white, everything else was black. I saw no blood, since nothing was red. I saw no Prospectors; I saw faces of the dead, spending their final minutes lingering in this world.

It was a clash of blades, a tempest of magic. They threw endless spells at me, but I destroyed every one of them-I still didn't know how to use the pulses offensively, but they were so strong today, they radiated around my body; my proximity was magic-free.

I had to toss behind everything-my quest, my sadness, in order to focus fully in the battle. Yes, I would call it a battle instead of a mere fight; this was me against my fear, a deeply ingrained fear in my mind. If I deserted instead of destroying them fully, I would never be able to face the Watchers again, and become the despised person they laughed and teased.

Even without the assistance of magic, the Prospectors were extremely potent, their movement swift and precise like fine clockwork. If I were one step behind, I would be dead. There was still fear in me, but I felt it leaving my body, along the streaks of sweat and blood. And with each passing moment, I fought stronger.

The end had begun when one of the Prospectors went down, his scream transformed into a muffled gurgle as blood bubbled in his slit throat. At the same time, something passed through my body; I felt my muscles split apart, ripped to the sides by the object.

The second Prospector was almost unscathed. I looked at my hands: they were scarred and shaking, the fingers sore and complaining. Blood rushed to my left arm and flushed to the skin at the place of the previously broken bone; it swelled, and though I didn't feel pain, it did become unwieldy and slow. I didn't know pain, but I knew my body rattled.

He didn't use his blade. He swung his mace at me. I didn't doubt that, if I was hit solid, I would be dismantled into bloody pieces. Oh, but for the first time in days, I was tired.

It was good to have already killed a Prospector, I told myself. I did well.

I remembered the first hunt I had, six years ago. I was eleven back then.

The sky was getting dark, but I was still chasing my prey-a young buck whose sauntering motion brought him to my eyes. It was summer, and less cold than now, so patches of bushes and wild grass straddled the northern lands; the buck went into one of them. I struggled to find away in the bush-the plants were low, but I was also short, and small-hacking the leaves with my blade. I found the buck, drinking water leisurely from a small, clear pool; it must have thought it escaped danger; I tossed a knife, which bit into its hindleg. It snorted in panic, shaking its head around; it was then that I snuck out of the bush and slit its throat. I yelled triumphantly.

Except that he screamed at me desperately, and jutted his antler-it was a tender thing, the soft, velvety on it not yet fallen off-into my chest. It stopped between my ribs, but went deep. I couldn't remove the peculiar object from me; if I used force, the intense pain would instantly black me out. I thought I was going to die, and wailed; and in fact I would have died hugging the buck, if Arte and Joana didn't come to my aid, hearing my pathetic cries while searching for me.

He used a mace-because his sword was still in me. Like the buck's antler. Except that this time there was no Joana, no Arte around, and the person opposite to me was not a dead deer, but a Prospector of the Watchers.

What in me changed in these six years? I...didn't know. I was just a pretty outstanding hunter in my tribe until fairly recently, then the known world of mine shattered to scraps. Responsibility? No, responsibility wouldn't change anyone, I was still I, running away from it.

His mace edged towards my body. I could try and block it, but I was as powerless as against the buck six years ago. My left hand winced, and with a clatter my blade sunk to the ground.

I turned and braced the iron mace with my left side, then leapt back. Its blunt head smashed into my arm, and whipped me away like a cannon ball. But before that happened, I let go of my other blade as well.

I dropped to the ground. I feel absolutely shattered, as if I was cast down from the sky; but there was no follow up. A wisp of ghostly smile appeared on my lips-the first since a week perhaps. The blade didn't disappoint me.

The lady in blue ran scrambling at me, her maid following, carrying a bunch of vulneraries with her. Oh, I must look battered and crushed now, I was exhausted beyond the limit and my body protested wickedly. Their faces were white and sober as they saw my state; I probably was hurt quite badly.

But I survived. Nothing had changed, I realised; I survived then, I survived now. It mattered not whether I needed help or lot.

It was then that I looked down at my chest. Oh, and saw the gleaming sword stick out of my chest; it was a fairly big sword.

Colour returned to my vision, and suddenly the world around me was red, all red, different kinds of red all splashed onto a single canvas. I blacked out.

* * *

><p>It was dark. Very dark. I dreamed no dreams, but the endless silence and solitude haunted me. Something trickled down my throat, moisting my sandpaper-like tongue in the process; it was sweet, and soothing. It restarted my body like a trigger, and one by one my senses returned.<p>

The pain came first. It wasn't fiery and aggressive, but I felt my whole body engulfed in pulses after pulses of blunt, crushing sensation. Then my skin responded: the cotton pillows were soft, the mattresses thick and heavy. I smelled the fragrance of lilies and the spice of herbs being ground. My fingers moved around, entangled in the mattresses, and I tried to push myself up; but great jolts of stabbing agony from my chest stopped me to doing so.

Then I opened my eyes. They were heavy and tired, but I forced them open nonetheless. The young maid I saved (I supposed they would kill her if I didn't kill them) was sitting on a chair next to me, feeding me honey water with an iron spoon. I gulped down several more spoonful, the thick liquid wetting my parched lips, before she noticed I was awake and went to inform her master.

I had never experienced this hunger before. My stomach was practically a deep void, empty and hollow that its rumbling was resonated and amplified into a loud noise. But I had no information where I was, or where I could get food, so I could only wait. Staring at the stone ceiling, the grimness returned; I accomplished absolutely nothing in the last week, apart from injuring myself that I couldn't continue with the quest.

Even though my sanity was no longer divested by grief, I felt quite hopeless. I made a count-I didn't know how long I had fainted, but wouldn't be less than a few days, judging from the rusty state of my body. That left no more than two weeks before my tribe would run out of supplies and starve. That meant, help had to be sent now so it could be delivered in time. Which was almost impossible.

The door was opened again, and in came two people. One was the lady in blue I saw the other day; today, her haired was braided in an elegant style, and she wore a casual white dressed. Her eyes seemed more beautiful without the crown. The other man was a huge fellow, perhaps two heads taller than me; his head was bald and round like an egg, with carefully trimmed mustache curling up in a comical manner. His upper body was bare, muscles in gigantic slabs; there were numerous tattoos and inscriptions on his chest.

"Ah, so this is the hero that saved our little Princess." He had a thick, northern accent. "We were afraid of you that day. When you charged against all those soldiers, I thought you were a madman committing suicide."

"I was angry." I muttered quietly.

"Hah, you must be very angry then." The burly man quipped, "You looked like a maddened bull! I rarely see people braver than Braum, but you won my respect, boy, even if you're skinny as hell." I probably wasn't very skinny, but compared to him, I could as well be a willow.

Despite all of Braum's efforts to cheer me up, I remained sullen and glum. So apparently I saved a princess; but since when were there princes and princesses in the northern lands?

"Where is this place?" I asked.

"This is Freljord." The lady answered. Braum laughed, and followed, "You must be missing home a lot, boy. You muttered a lot of stuff while fainting..."

I sighed. I didn't even attempt to coordinate with Braum's joke to show minor embarassment. It would be difficult for me-and them.

"Speak no more for now, Braum. This stranger that has saved my life possesses more worries than you think." Her voice was rigid and clear, and very composed, never varying too much in tone. "There is grief in your eyes, but it is much deeper and sorrowful than simple nostalgia. Your brows shouldn't be creasing at such a fine, young age, but indeed they are; you are distressed, and overwhelmed, by whatever is plaguing you. I know nothing about your past, kind stranger, but I know you are bereaved, bereaved of hope and sanctity."

Her blue eyes started into mine; they stunned me, but at the same time I felt safe and secure. "Despite your physical prowess and keenness of battle, you aren't old, barely grown up. Right?" I nodded.

"You are confused and disheartened because of the responsibility you forced upon your frail shoulders, and you don't know how to respond to failure." She sighed, "I understand it, I had it younger than you."

She began recounting her past. "I was fifteen back then, thinking I was strong, and capable. I was the best archer in my tribe, but the world isn't about who aims sharper or shoots farther. If that's the case, it would be easy. One day, as I was out scouting alone, a neighboring tribe ambushed me and took me captive. They tied me on a stake as an offering to their spirit."

Her voice trembled, "My father and mother led my tribe to the rescue. But it was planned all along, they knew my parents would come. I was there, tied up high all the time, and I shouted to warn them until my voice was raspy and broken; but no one heard what I said, they thought I was scared. They came for me, one by one, and fell in the process. My father was stabbed to death in front of me, his hands circled round me feet. My mother died after untying the ropes for me."

"There was a time when I sat on the cold stone chair known as my throne, mind empty as void. My gaze was hollower than yours, and much colder; I almost gave up. Several times I contemplated on whether I should just kill myself to end this grief, but in the end I decided to face my life again. It wasn't easy, but I'm sure your scenario is much less desperate than mine."

"A man who died once wouldn't consider dying again. You will be fine; recollect your emotions, then we can sit down and talk more. Ah, feel free to cry; don't feel ashamed at all."

They left the room. And so, heeding her advice, I started weeping. It was hard to stop.


	10. IX - Frostborn

"_Oh, I saw snow, black snow, and Freljord tearing."_

_-Anonymous on the Frost Queen's return_

I had never heard a birp chirp so cheerfully before. When I woke up the next morning, I was much better-physical and spiritual wise. My thoughts were muddled, but I decided to grant myself one more chance before giving up.

I examined my body. It wasn't in a good state, but wasn't so severe too; somehow I always recovered faster than anyone else. My chest was throbbing awfully, and whenever I breathed in, it ached a little more; but it wasn't unbearable. Except for some shallow cuts and scratches, my body was largely unscathed. My left arm, however, rested limply on a pillow; it was encased in thick, white plaster from below the shoulder to my wrist, exposing only the fingers. I tried twitching them; they responded, which was a good sign.

There was a basin right next to the bed, so I propped myself against the bed frame, washed my face and brushed my teeth; it was awkward with one arm unavailable, but I managed without too much of a hassle. I grew ambitious, and attempt to stand up-it proved too much for me; my legs trembled like jelly, and my body wavered. I needed food to get going.

After a while, Braum came into the room with a wooden wheelchair, and lifted me effortlessly into a it. He wheeled me out through a corridor, laughing at my groaning stomach, promising that there would be breakfast. He also brought me a sling, which I gladly placed my injured arm in-the heavy weight of the plaster made my arm sore.

Indeed there was. Plates of hot, steaming food were placed on a long table; some people were already seated and eating. The Princess was at the far side of the table, talking to some middle-aged men on something known as "strategy". Braum wheeled me over and placed me right next to the her. A servant brought me a plate of food- delicacies I rarely had eaten back with my tribe: bacon, potatoes and even a scrambled egg. Next to the plate was a mug of warm, swirling goat milk. The steaming fragrance almost brought tears to my eyes; sometimes, life's really that simple.

I gorged down the food. To be fair, I hadn't eaten in several days. The other people were doing the same thing, assaulting food; no one minded. The Princess introduced me to who were apparently her commanders and chief-of-warriors, "This is the kind stranger who saved my life on my way back from the White Bear tribe. Oh, what's your name? I forgot to inquire yesterday."

"Samael." I answered.

"And I am Avarosa. You may call me Ave." She said.

I gobbled down three more plates of food before I was marginally satisfied. "He's a fine lad, isn't he?" the commanders bellowed in laughter.

"Skinny, yeah, but I see he's feisty as hell." A man in wolf skin claimed. The others nodded in assent.

"He must be good, taking down a Watcher." Another slapped my back; I winced in pain. "Oh," he apologised, "I didn't see you were injured. When you have recovered, come fight with me, and I'll show you what is it to be a true man." He laughed again, then exited the room.

"Nice people, aren't they?" Avarosa regarded me, smiling. There was a majestic air about her, ingrained in her posture and tone, that made me agree before even thinking. She really was someone assuming power, not a puppet controlled by the elders; an idea sprang to my mind. Perhaps she could help me.

"Ave?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"I would like to...have a little meeting with you after this." I requested.

"Sure," her reply was swift, "I was going to invite you to talk with me too. About how to repay your favour. I'm sure there are ways I can help, Samael."

The meeting commenced right after breakfast. We moved to a small, private room; there were already three glasses of water on the table in case we were thirsty. Avarosa and Braum sat on one side of the table, while I sat opposite.

"You still look perplexed, Sam." Avarosa asked encouragingly, "Since I am the Princess of Freljord for now, perhaps I could offer you some assistance. Tell me what you need, and I'll try my best to provide the items."

"I came from the north, where food is scarce and the climate cold. We live in Obelisks, tall structures that were mysteriously constructed by people we don't know." Avarosa nodded; she was also familiar with the people in the north, it seemed. "The Watchers organised a hunt, which would provide us enough food for the Evernight; two months of lightless days. However, the other tribes attacked us, killed most of our work force, and ransacked all our resources."

"I have heard a lot of cases about tribes feuding. However, it is strange that they would attack your tribe under the eyes of the Watchers." She questioned suspiciously.

"The Watcher...he disliked someone in our tribe. I think he for some reason despised our tribe." I explained. But should I tell her the truth-the full picture? "Our tribe is now starving; food will run out in two week's time, and there's no way we can obtain food."

"So..." she ran some quick calculations in her brain, and asked, "How much people do I need to provide for?"

"Three hundred." That was a pretty large number of mouths to feed. Though Freljord was considerably more fertile than the north, food was still difficult to obtain in winter. Would she refuse?

"That's not a lot. I'll arrange for someone to deliver as soon as possible. Now, tell me where your tribe is." She answered quickly.

"Huh?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard. My tribe...was saved? So easily? I almost screamed in joy and relief that moment; then I remembered, the Watchers were probably still searching for me.

"Braum, bring me a map." She looked at me, and asked, "Samael, you still look worried; is there anything else that you wouldn't want to tell me? No matter what you tell me next, my offer still holds."

Should I tell her? If I don't tell her, my tribe would be saved. If I tell her, then perhaps she would decline on grounds of not wishing to offend the Watchers. I lifted my head, and looked at her-those deep blue eyes seemed cold, but concern and care welled inside. I thought of Samus; they both genuinely wanted to help me.

"_What I like the best in you, is your honesty, my dear child."_

I decided to be honest. Survival came first, but men always had principles. "Ave, I am actually an Unbeliever." I sputtered.

"What?" her voice raised and quavered.

"Well, _they_ say I am an Unbeliever. I don't know if I am one or not, though I've never seen, touched or heard something known as chaos magic. But I am sure, they're certainly coming for me. Sheltering me, or providing assistance, would harm your position in Freljord."

I sat there, waiting for her reply. My fingers fidgeted on the glass of water, but I didn't drink it. She sank into her chair, hand pushing against her smooth cheek, and started pondering. After what was an eternity for me, she turned and asked Braum, "Braum, what is your opinion on this?"

"My shield is huge." Braum said proudly, "If they come for Sammy, I'll just smack them away. No big matter! Besides," his gaze suddenly turned sharp, and critical, "it is time to establish our sovereignty over Freljord, else no one would truly regard us as the owners of the city."

"Exactly." Her fingers drummed lightly on the table. "One day we're still under the sovereignty of the Watchers, even if it is purely nominal, we could never unite Freljord." She smiled, "This is a risk to take, a very big risk...no one has resisted the Watchers successfully before, but there are always exceptions."

"Samael, you are special. You are the first person whom I heard of that was accused of being an Unbeliever and still survived. You are an exception. Besides, you saved my life after all; to me this is invaluable."

"So you're willing to help us?" I was overwhelmed; by joy, and disbelief. There was no way I expected such an answer. How to deal with the Watchers, that would be another issue; my people were safe for now.

"I will send Braum with resources to the north, and bring your tribe in case the Watchers track them down. I promise, they'll be given enough land to sustain on their own."

"Ave...really, thank you very much for helping." I rose from my chair, and even though my legs were shaky, bowed at her. Then I slumped back to the wheelchair as dizziness overtook me.

"Don't say that, I owe you a lot more than this. You almost died saving me; I don't know if your intention was purely to defend me, but you did get injured from fighting those Watchers who tried to assassinate me." She suddenly realised something, "Ah, speaking of Watchers." She handed me a Runestone. It was a regular hexagon, with a circle inscribed.

"What is this?" I examined the piece of stone, puzzled.

"This should be Athiis, the Rune of mind. It is an Archaic Rune so I am not sure what it is for. It was found on one of the Prospectors you killed, so I guess that is your loot."

"Are those real Prospectors? Are the Watchers already monitoring and overseeing you?" I frowned. I never knew they would be so blatant when maintaining dominance over Freljord.

"I doubt that. The tattoos were scarred and outdated. These are probably exiled Watchers." Seeing I was confused, she added, "There are often political feuds atop the Mountain, and the defeated would be exiled. Someone probably paid these exiles to assassinate me."

"Okay..."

"Now, since Braum is going to take care of your people. I need an assistant. And that is you, I'm afraid." She smirked, pointing at me.

"What? What could I do?"

"Oh, I have trust in you. Your wounds will heal fast enough, and then you can help me do a lot of things-just think it as a way to pay for the food and supplies I support your tribe with." She grinned, "There is a lot of things you do better than Braum, such as..."

"Such as?"

"Killing people. I am confident you're much more adept." She then added, "But don't worry, I won't force you to kill anyone; you only kill them when you have judged and think it is legitimate to do so."

"Alright..." I sighed. The offer didn't seem bad at all, it would be good experience. "But Ave," I slightly raised my white, encased arm, "this won't be well enough to move in a week or two. What am I going to do for the period?"

"Ah." She grinned again, a smug smile on her pristine face, "There is a lot to learn. Have some more rest, go to the kitchen and eat stuff if you aren't already full, and come back in the afternoon. We shall start with the history and current political state of Freljord."

* * *

><p>At my request, we skipped through the history of Freljord. Avarosa had a gigantic map of Freljord set up on the table; different tribes, major and minor, were recorded on it, as well as several small towns littered near Freljord; in the centre of the map, the city of Freljord itself; far to the northeast, the Watchers atop the Misty Mountain. Misty Mountain was in fact a part of a greater mountain range called the Ironspikes that trailed off the southeast corner of the map.<p>

"This is where I was born." Avarosa pointed at a small town, some three hundred kilometers from Freljord. "I was fortunately enough to be born into a fairly influential tribe; we held land eighty kilometers in radius, and commanded several less tribes near us. Even after the death of my parents I could retain most of the land, though some allegiant tribes deserted and sought new overlords."

"After ten years of conquests, I now have control over this area of land." She sketched her present dominion on the map with a piece of charcoal: it started from her town and ended thirty kilometers east of the city Freljord, a narrow piece of land that straddled across the southern part of the northern land. It was a great feat, being able to conquer so much in a place where the Watchers held firm control over everything; however, her dominance wasn't absolute.

"These are the other tribes that opposed me and plotted against me." She marked several locations on the map, and circled their respect dominions. There were several tribes that also held large swathes of land, with up to a hundred thousand inhabitants each; compared to them, the northern tribes were simple jokes.

"Freljord is a large city, and has over twenty thousand occupants. However, I've only recently come across the city and its surrounding areas, so my rule isn't as established here." She explained.

She had more warriors than the other tribes; but what if they united and declare war at her? I voiced my concerns to the Princess.

"That is very likely to happen in the near future." She acknowledged, "That is the reason why I am still paying tribute to several of them, even though I could defeat them in battle. However, since I've take over Freljord they've gone restless; I fear they will pit their strength against me soon. That's why I need more power now. That's why you are important to me."

"Me?" I was puzzled. "Why would I be important in these politics?"

"Ah." She smiled, "Don't forget that after all, strength comes first in the northern land. Show them absolute strength, and they will render."

"So you want me to go to the tribes, challenge and kill their best warriors, then tell them to submit to your authority?"

"Pretty close. Also remind them that you can take their heads off any moment, behead their male and destroy their female. They will submit."

"But Ave, you know I can't do that. I am not strong enough to kill everyone of them; even if I am, I would not do that."

"Of course. I promised I will not force you to do something. But doing it is one thing, threatening them for it is another." She chuckled. "Alright, this is the first task you are going to do for me during your stay at Freljord. As for the second..."

She drew a few dashed lines, connected to her dominion-or princedom, since she was the Princess of Freljord now. "These are the tribes that have sworn allegiance to me, but refused direct control. They are pretty pestering...sometimes they show their loyalty, other times they treated me like a nobody; and they're most likely not going to supply any troops to me in case of a war. I hope you could also assist in me in bringing...or coercing them to Freljord."

Ah, she was an ambitious ruler. Ambition...wasn't bad; it fostered growth and competition, and ultimately change. Of course, also betrayals and conspiracies; I was reminded of how the old, wicked Arbiter set me up-I still believed I was innocent-just to cast Samus down from her Arbiter position. But why did I insist I was innocent? I was merely placing myself into their value judgement.

Perhaps I had been too desperately, and began trusting everyone that ever went near me. Perhaps I was too insecure, and now I was questioning everyone's motives. Perhaps both.

I asked flatly, "Princess...Ave, what distinguishes you from other rulers, who expend their entire lives enlarging their kingdoms and killing the others?"

She was stumped by my question, and stopped for a while before asking me back, "Is this question important to whether you will help me?"

"No." I stated, "But it will give me more reason to help you."

"It is good that you have such concern." She said calmly, "It shows that you haven't lost your principles while experiencing the emotional turmoil you obviously had recently. As for the difference...that's another story."

I listened attentively, urging her to go on.

"Alright. This is how it starts." She crossed her hands and placed them on the table. She started with a heave of remembrance, her mind drifting to the past.

"My father was the generic type of ruler you would get in the northern land: strong, reckless and pretty thoughtful at the same time. But there was one thing different-he was not interested in aggrandising his realm. For years it showed no problem, until the day he died; he left me an intact tribe, but still I was bullied by the others. It took me a few year's time to gather my people, war, and destroy every other tribe until no one looked down at me again. You would be correct-back then, I was nothing but another leader that wanted to dominate this land."

She sighed wistfully, "Then it changed, when I was twenty. Men from Piltover-" she paused, and asked, "Do you know where Piltover is?"

I shook my head, pretty embarassed. This should be common knowledge.

Her fingers traced along the Ironspikes. As she reached a certain point, some thirty centimeters beyond the edge of the map, she stopped, and drew a line horizontally to the east. "There," she said, "is the approximate location of Piltover. I haven't been there, but it is a huge city, bigger and more powerful than Freljord."

"When I was twenty, a group of men arrived at my tribe from Piltover. There weren't a lot of them: some two dozen men. But they were armed with weapons I've never seen before-guns shooting bullets that pierced the thickest of armour, hammers made with a concoction of different metals that would not bend nor break. And they got magic. Everyone in their rank knew how to cast spells and incinerate people."

Her expression was rueful, almost shameful, "A hundred of my tribe's best warriors died in front of them, before I could tell them to stop. They forced a lot out of us, marauding our caverns and silos; they forced me to sign documents known as 'trade treaties', in effect robbing our yearly produce without paying a dime. They did that to other tribes as well; no one could stop them."

"What did you do then?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, "It was until the Watchers heard of this and sent down an Arbiter and Prospectors; they slew all Piltovans, but the loot was never returned to my tribe."

"It was then that I realised I was weak. Not only was I weak, the whole Freljord was weak; our technology is retarded, our knowledge to magic next to none-the Watchers claimed monopoly over this. We could only survive under the shelter provided by the Watchers. Even if I possessed ten times more land and people, I could still only kneel to them."

That was...true. The Watchers had such influence and power, they had _de facto_ rule over all Freljord. They could take your possessions, rob your people, install lies on you-and you could only stay silent, since you needed them. "What to do?" I asked tersely, also immersed in thoughts.

"Freljord has to be united-I came up with this conclusion. Things have to change, but first Freljord has to be united before things can change. The reactionary force here is too great, and without a big enough base of power, the Watchers would simply mow over everyone and kill the improvements in their infancy. I began campaigning, and after six years, I finally obtained Freljord, the crown of the north-"

She stated firmly, "My actions bear no difference extensionally to the traditional tribe leaders. But I belief-I really do-that I am fighting for something greater, something much more significant that will ultimately bring prosperity and safety to all of the north. There will be laws, true, codified laws, instead of what the Watchers decreed. There will be knowledge-knowledge for everyone."

I was startled. Shocked. Amazed by the prospect and future she had laid out in front of me. It was beautiful.

"I will say I have slain a lot of people. Just like you, Samael. The reason I never questioned you thoughts behind killing all those people-is because you have a set of reasons, and that set is something I acknowledge and agree with. As long as you accept that you _deserve_ to die, since you have already taken someone else's life," she mused, quite thoughtfully, "I believe its fine."

"I hope you agree with my reasons as well." She smiled. I smiled too.


End file.
